The Little Mouse Detective
by Detouredbe
Summary: Olivia states in one of the Disney comics that she, assisted by Fidget, does her own mystery solving. This is my look at some of their cases.
1. Olivia Flaversham takes the case

**If you've ever read the Disney comic, "The Sideshow Sea Beast", you'll know that Fidget reforms and befriends Olivia, after the events of "The Great Mouse Detective", and that they often, accompanied by Toby, solve mysteries of their own. Olivia, narrating the comic, mentions that before the case of the "Sideshow Sea Beast", they've already had a good deal of such adventures, but she doesn't go into details on them. This is my look at what they might be, starting with my interpretation of what's going on in that scene we are shown at the beginning, where Olivia and Fidget are running from that ghost in the graveyard, and how that might have come about.**

It was a sunny Saturday morning, and Olivia Flaversham, not having school or Church to occupy her time, was off to visit the residence of Basil of Baker Street. Since she and her father, Hiram, had returned from Scotland after the hols, she found herself visiting the detective's flat every Saturday, without fail. She loved meeting up with the famous detective and his kindly assistant, Dr. Dawson, not to mention their jovial landlady Mrs. Judson, and her new assistant, Fidget.*

Today, when Olivia arrived at her destination, Basil was in a very flurried mood. "Dawson, my good fellow," he was saying, forgetting about their young guest for the moment, "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. It seems as though, without fail, the number of crimes and mishaps maximizes about ten times on the weekends! Look at these cases!", he motioned towards an array of paper stacks, varying in height, and not very tidily arranged, on his table. "And some of these are downright nonsensical! Look at this one!" Basil snatched one of the letters, while both Olivia and Dawson peered at it from behind. "A ghost has been sighted at the local cemetery, and they want us to look into it. Rubbish! For one thing, it was observed by a drunken mouse, late at night, and even so, he admitted to the police the next morning that it resembled a white bed sheet. Obviously, it was either a hallucination, or merely a prank pulled by some wretched juvenile!""Uh, but Basil," Dawson intercepted, "how can you be so sure it was not a real ghost? I mean to say, there've been countless sightings of spectres throughout the ages, and while many of them have been proven to be false, surely some of them must be real?"

"My dear Dawson!" Basil slapped his forehead, "if there were any such things as ghosts, they would have to be…" At this point, Olivia picked up the letter and skimmed it over, herself. Still holding it in one hand, she turned and tugged on the sleeve of Basil's smoking jacket.

"Er, yes, Miss Flankersmith?" Basil turned around suddenly, trying to smile for her, though anyone could see he was annoyed at this sudden disturbance.

Olivia ignored his remark, she'd come to realize he only called her by the wrong name for fun, for old time's sake.*

"Mr. Basil, may I take this letter to look at it more closely, please?"

"Oh, uh, I suppose it would do no harm. Now, there are so many cases, and so little time to take care of them all. We shall have to prioritize, Dawson! And I say the sooner, the better! Ah, here's one! Now when can we get to this…"

Olivia quietly went out of the room into the hall at the back. In this corridor was a staircase, leading to the bedrooms upstairs, along with a wine-coloured rectangular rug on the floor in the center, with gold lining all around, partway in. There was a table under a hall mirror, a wardrobe for guest's coats that was seldom used, and a few old portraits and newer photographs, but other than that there was little to no furnishing. There were a few doors around, one leading to the dining room, one leading to Mrs. Judson's personal sewing room, one leading in an alternate entrance to the kitchen, and one leading to a small closet. Olivia knew that the closet served as a "bedroom" for Fidget,* and so she went over to the closet and knocked on the door. Upon receiving no answer, she quietly called, "Fidget?"

Still no answer. It was very quiet in the closet, and, concerned, she cautiously opened the door. The closet was deserted. Olivia then remembered that Fidget always kept the door ajar when he slept, because if it were closed on him, he couldn't open it from the inside. Besides that, he never went to bed until 10:00 a.m., and it was only 9:20.

Olivia went across the hall to the door leading into the kitchen. Mrs. Judson was inside, making a cheddar loaf.

"Mrs. Judson?" Olivia called.

"Oh, hello dearie!" The landlady beamed as she looked up from her kneading.

"Have you seen Fidget?"

"Ohoho! He's outside with Toby, and my but don't they resemble each other at the moment! Mrs. Hudson - that's the human landlady who lives above us - gave Toby a bone this morning, and I just happened to have given Fidget a lollipop from the sweet shop. They're together, side by side, each enjoying his treat, and won't let nobody near 'em! Do you know, Mr. Basil went out to greet Toby earlier, and the dog started growling the moment he petted him! Didn't want anyone else touching his bone! Anyway, Basil gave him a sound scolding, and then moved on and said 'Good morning' to young Fidget, and do you know what he did? The moment the detective's hand was on that young bat's shoulder, he started growling right the same as the dog!"

Olivia and Mrs. Judson laughed together for a moment. "I daresay, Basil was in quite a huff when he came back inside! Ohoho!"

Olivia giggled again. "Do you think it'd be alright if I said hallo to them?"

Mrs. Judson thought there'd be no harm in that; both the basset hound and the bat had taken such a shine to Olivia, it seemed, that they'd undoubtedly be nicer to her.

Olivia then went outside, and over to the alley between 221 Baker Street and the building beside it. Sure enough, facing away from her, a few feet away, was Toby, curled up on his tummy and gnawing away at his delicious bone, and beside him, behind his front right leg, was Fidget, curled up in the same style, sucking and chewing at that tasty lolly.

Olivia had to laugh. The two made quite a picture together, like a father hound with a puppy, modeling his sire's every move to perfection.

Olivia walked up to Toby and patted his back paw. "Hallo, Toby!", she called.

Toby bristled for a moment, before he recognized her voice and her scent. Immediately his hackles went down, and he sat up, turned around and licked her face happily, wagging his tail.

Olivia giggled. "You're so cute, Toby!" she declared as she hugged him around his front ankle. Then she went over to Fidget. "Hallo, Fidget!"

Fidget's eyes were closed as he lay there, savouring the sweet he held between his webbed fingers, but upon hearing her voice, they opened slowly, and he looked up at her smiling face. "Good to see you, Livy! Uh, did you want some?"

Olivia looked at the sticky, spit-covered, three-quarters-eaten glob-on-a-stick that her friend held out to her. She much preferred her lollipops unused, so she replied, "Um, no thank you."

Fidget was content with this; it'd been years since he'd had one of these, so he really felt more than a little possessive of it.

"Actually, I wanted to show you this," Olivia took out the letter from her coat pocket. Fidget looked up from the lolly again, this time sitting up. She handed the paper to him, and he looked it over. "It's written to Basil."

"I know that. I asked him if I could look at it. I thought maybe you'd be interested as well."

Fidget couldn't have figured out what she thought would make him interested in that letter if it were to end global poverty. She explained, "Mr. Basil is very busy with his cases; he and Dr. Dawson are sorting through them right now, to decide which ones they'll look into first. He said when he showed us this one that he thought it was silly, so he's probably not going to look into it until the others are finished."

"Uh-huh."

"So, I thought we could take care of it for him!"

Fidget clarified, "You mean, we go down to the cemetery to find some makebelieve ghost?"

Olivia frowned. "Don't you believe in ghosts, Fidget?""Livy, if there were such things as ghosts, the sewer where I used to live would've been crawling with them! We lost count of how many guys were fed to Felicia years ago!" Fidget shuddered, and Olivia guessed he was either thinking about the numerous times he nearly joined those unfortunate souls, or the time his father had. Not wanting him to start brooding again, she quickly continued, "But Fidget, I've read that ghosts only stay after they're dead because they're trapped on Earth! Maybe the spirits of all those folks that Professor Ratigan killed were free, but this one at the cemetery isn't!"

Fidget could think of no answer to this, but he still wasn't convinced. "But when would we go? I wanted to sleep after I finished this."

"We could go tonight! My bedtime is at 9:00, so you and Toby could come to my place around 9:30. Daddy would probably think I was asleep. Then we could go down to the cemetery and investigate that ghost!"

"What if your dad finds out you're gone?"

"I'll leave a note on my bed, Fidget. It'll tell him where I'm going, who I'm with, and what we're doing. But I hope he doesn't find out till we've solved the mystery."

Fidget looked unsure, so she continued, "We'll be alright, I promise. We'll have Toby there, and we'll have each other. Oh, say you'll come, Fidget! I've always wanted to be a detective, since I first read about Mr. Basil's work in the news. And you're so good with the night! Also, Basil would be so happy when he found out we'd solved the mystery for him!"

Fidget thought it over, then said, "Alright, let's do it!"

"Thank you, Fidget!" Olivia hugged him around his neck, and he hugged her back. It seemed as though he couldn't get enough of hugging the little girl. "And Toby, you will take us there, won't you?"

Toby barked and wagged his tail, nodding his head. "Good! Remember, 9:30 at my place!"

When 9:30 that night arrived, Olivia was ready. Hiram had tucked her in at 9:00, and after he closed her bedroom door, she waited 5 minutes, watching the clock on her wall, for the light from the streetlamp, streaming through the window lit up her view of its face. After 5 minutes, she was confident her father would think she was asleep, and she then crept out of bed, barefoot so as not to make too much noise. She quietly got dressed, then pulled out the note she'd written before bed, out from the drawer on her night table. She had her coat, hat and scarf on the bench at the window, along with her shoes, so she could grab them at the last moment. She made her little bed up, for as a rule she never left bed without doing so, left the note ontop of the blanket, and then she went over to the window and sat, and waited.

Right on time, she watched Toby come trotting along her street, and stop on the sidewalk outside her home. Fidget was seated atop Toby's back, and he quickly indicated for the dog to be quiet, before whispering to Olivia (whom he was face to face with), "All set?"

"Yes, Fidget!" As soon as she'd watched them arrive, she'd slipped on her shoes, coat, and scarf. She now adjusted her tam o'shanter, then accepted Fidget's extended wing, giggling as it made her feel ladylike. As Olivia greeted Toby, Fidget reached over and closed the window from the outside. When they were both seated comfortably, Olivia turned to Fidget and whispered, excitement spicing her voice, "And now, as Mr. Basil says, 'The game's afoot!' Toby, sic'em!"

Without a sound, so as not to alert Hiram, Toby went running down the street with his two passengers; their destination: the graveyard.

As they rode on, Fidget couldn't help but breathe in the cool, fresh air of the night. The air and the feel of riding a rushing dog almost replicated the motion of flight, the way he remembered it from childhood, and he instinctively spread his wings out wide, taking in the full force of the wind.

"Lovely night, isn't it?" he asked.

Olivia turned and nodded.

"So uh, exactly what are we going to do, when we get there?"

"We look around the place for anything suspicious, and wait in case the ghost appears. If the fellow really did see something, and if Basil's right about it being a trick, there'll probably be some sort of evidence the culprit's left behind." Olivia used every detective-like word she could remember from listening to her idol.

"Evidence? Like tracks and stuff?"

"Of course! Or even better, if the 'ghost' appears, one of us could distract him while the other grabs him to check for a sheet!"

"Uh, heheheh, Livy, which of us is gonna be grabbing?"

"Um, I didn't think of that yet. Well, let's see… you're good with the dark, right Fidget?"

"It's a gift," he shrugged.

"And you're good at sneaking around, right?"

"I learned a few things working for Ratigan."

"Good! Then you can grab ahold of the ghost while he chases me! Are you cold, Fidget?"

Fidget's razor-like teeth were chattering, but he wouldn't let on the real reason in front of Olivia. "Um, maybe a little. Should've brought a cloak* or something."

When they reached the graveyard, Toby stopped, and Fidget slid down his leg, then caught Olivia as she slid down. Olivia told Toby to sit, which he did, and then she and Fidget approached the cemetery gate. Neither of them felt even half as brave as they did on the way over, but now that they'd come this far, they'd better see it through.

They slipped through the black, iron bars of the gate, Olivia first. Suddenly she let out a squeal of surprise. "Fidget!" She cried in annoyance as she realized it was only a very shivery Fidget clutching her from behind. "You're afraid!"

"Erm, no I'm not!" Fidget quickly denied the accusation, but the young girl was not convinced. "You'd almost think you believed in the ghost after all!"

"I don't, Livy," Fidget said firmly, hands on his hips. "It's just that - we don't know… um, if it turned out to be someone… you know… bad things could happen!"

"What?"

"Someone playing a trick, right? What if they wanted to hurt us - you - um, Toby, er - someone - er"

"You?" She knew Fidget didn't want to say it. This was in part because he was learning how to be well-mannered, and he was not sure yet whether it would've been polite. The other reason was simply pride; what male ever wants to admit to a female, especially a pre-teen one, that he's scared for his own safety?

"Uh, yeah." Fidget relaxed for a moment.

Olivia knew he was right. Come to think of it, she hadn't even thought of that before. What happened if, should this ghost turn out to be someone in disguise, they were not friendly? Other than little children (and which ones, besides herself, would be out at this hour?) what sort of person would do this sort of thing? A lunatic? A drunkard? Or perhaps someone even more shady than that… someone with some sort of vile intent behind this charade?

Well, there was no turning back now. Taking Fidget's hand and gripping it questionably tight, she proceeded on, her companion trying his best to hide his fear, while she made little effort. She had more important things to focus on at the moment. As they approached the part of the cemetery used by the mice, she reached into her pocket, fishing out a magnifying glass which was slightly large in her hand. "Like Mr. Basil," she whispered to the bat who remained two steps behind her, almost literally. She stooped over and held the magnifying glass to the ground, searching for anything of importance to her "case". Fidget, meanwhile, kept his eyes and ears open for any signs of trouble.

After a few minutes of doing what might have looked, from an aerial view, reminiscent of a bee's conversation,* the young sleuth and her "assistant" stumbled across something. The most likely form of evidence Olivia had suspected to find. "Tracks!" She whispered excitedly.

Fidget came around to look. "How d'you know they're not ours? We've been walking around in circles, squares, triangles, and shapes I can't even think of the names of!"

"Shh! Listen, Fidget! If they were yours, one would only see a left footprint, alongside a peg mark. They're small, yes, but they're not mine. Look," she stomped on the ground beside one of the strange tracks, then showed Fidget as she lifted her foot again. "See the difference? The shoes are not the same. In fact, whoever made these tracks has even smaller feet than me."

"But Livy, who could have such little feet?" Fidget wondered, glancing around as if expecting to see the culprit behind one of the tombstones.

"I don't know…. Do you think it could be a child? A really young child?"

"In the graveyard? Are there any tracks of an adult around? Who lets a kid go by themselves?"

Olivia, thinking of the two of them out here on their own, hesitated, and an almost outraged Fidget snapped, "Oh come on, Livy! I'm seventeen years old! I'm not a kid!"

Olivia changed the subject. "We should try and figure out how long ago the child - if it was a child - walked down here. It seems like they go in a straight line down towards those trees over there. Now let's see, how did Basil say you test tracks?" She knelt on the grass, still examining the tracks through her magnifying glass.

"What's so funny, Livy?"

"Huh?" She turned her head towards Fidget. "Nothing - I wasn't laughing."

"Huh. Sounded like you did. There! There you go again!"

Now Olivia listened. Thank goodness Fidget had such good hearing. "Oh Fidget! Can't you tell that's someone else! In fact, it sounds like a kid!"

"You mean, he's still around here after all?"

"How do you know it's a boy?"

"I'm listening. I - I can just tell," Fidget shrugged. He was paying closer attention to the sound now, and presently he added, "It seems to be coming from over there," and pointed to a large group of graves out in the open, about three yards away from them. It was a long distance to travel, but they had to get to the bottom of this - for one thing, if this child was here alone, what would happen if this mysterious "ghost" showed up? They'd have to make sure the child was alright.

As they neared the rows of graves Fidget had pointed out, Olivia wondering why the tracks went off in a completely different direction, suddenly Fidget said, "Gosh, do you know where we are?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look at these markers, Livy. Carolyn Batterfield, Batricia McCormick, Jolly MacFlyson, Stella Wingsley? We're in the bat's part of the cemetery!"

"Do - do you think that means something?" Olivia cocked an eyebrow.

"Um, I dunno. I'm just interested, that's all."

"Oh, of course," Olivia had to admit, Fidget had been around few members of his own kind, aside from his father for the first ten years of his life, so to be amongst a large quantity of them - especially the mortal remains of those ones who'd long since moved on - would probably be something of a novelty for him.

Fidget had all but forgotten the child, and was studying the tombstones, but Olivia continued searching. "Don't you think - Fidget?" She turned around, hearing him reading out loud in a mumble. "Fidget! Pay attention!"

Innocently unaware of what she'd said, Fidget called her over. Olivia groaned - he could get so engrossed in the strangest things - but nonetheless came to him, to hear what he would say. "Livy! Can you believe it! It seems like about half the people here were gypsies!"

"Do you think any of them were related to you mother?"

"Dunno. Papa never told me Mum's last name."

Olivia knew Fidget's interest had been piqued, but she was still keen on solving this case, and finding that child. She let for a moment of silence, before continuing, "Fidget, don't you think it's strange that the child's footprints go over that way, when you heard him over around here? How could he have gotten here without leaving any more tracks?"

"Uh, well, he might have…" Fidget looked around, but in their direction he could see no nearby existing cover - like a building or a large set of trees - that the hidden youngster might have travelled behind, away from their gaze. This was getting more and more puzzling for them. They glanced around in all directions, not understanding any of it, but then, suddenly, a low moan called out, behind them.

Both froze where they stood. Glancing simultaneously over their left shoulders, they went wide-eyed and turned fully around. There, behind the tombstone just in front of them, rose up a moaning, white figure.

Beginning to tremble, Fidget asked, "Uh, heheheh, Livy? That - that's not a kid, i-is it?"

Also shaking, Olivia replied, "Um, that's a sheet over it, right?"

"Heheheh, if - if it were, the person would have f-feet, w-wouldn't they?"

"Fidget? You - you're one to talk, y-you've got only one!"

"T-talk? I say 'less talk, more RUN!'"

Both turned and quickly dashed off, through the tomb aisles and across the area, till they reached the gate. There they stopped, to catch their breaths, Fidget holding Olivia while she rested her head on his shoulder. "I didn't like that," he said, between breaths.

"Fidget, do you realize what we've done? We ran when we saw that ghost, and we just left that little child all alone! What if it finds him?"

"You're not saying we should go back?"

"Fidget, would you want to be left there, all by yourself? Who knows what that thing could - wait a moment!" Olivia snapped her fingers. "Fidget, the ghost's only been seen by that old mouse and by us, at _night_!"

"Uh huh?"

"We found that kid's tracks, but we never actually saw the kid himself, we only heard him!"

"…And?"

"Fidget, you heard him in a completely different direction from where we saw the tracks heading, yet we didn't see any of those tracks in the direction of the bat graves."

"Yeah, maybe they were further away from us?"

"Maybe, but listen to this. We wondered what child would be out on their own at this time of night, right?"

"Yeah… Livy, are you getting at something?"

"I think I am, Fidget! Look at it this way, a little boy, out on his own, _late at night_, but it's _early _for _you _of course, and we see evidence he's walked in a certain direction, but we hear him off somewhere else, and can't see how he got there. We follow his laughter to the graves of the _bats_, and then we don't hear him any more, but we see that ghost! And now that I think about it, that white thing _did _look an awful lot like a bed sheet - do you get what I'm saying?"

Fidget had watched her intently, taking in what she said. Now he sat down cross-legged and thought things over. Olivia watched his hands animate his thoughts as he mumbled them out, then he said, "Ah, now I think I've got it!"

"Exactly! Now, remember what we originally planned to do when we saw our ghostly friend?"

"Uh-huh! Boy, we really played that out well, didn't we?"

"Well, he caught us off guard, Fidget. We just won't let that happen again this time. Now, here's how we do this…"

Several minutes later, Olivia slinked back alone through the aisles of the deceased bats once more, talking to herself as though she was talking to Fidget. "Oh don't be such a cowardly custard, Fidget! Ten to one, we imagined the whole thing. Fidget? Fidget!" As part of her act, she turned and looked behind her, as though trying to discern her friend's whereabouts. "Now where do you suppose he went? Boy he moves fast, for a bat who can't fly…"

Once again, that moaning occurred behind her. She looked around, trying to mask the mischievous gleam glinting in her eyes. She watched as once more, the blanched, billowy figure floated up from behind that same tombstone. "Oh dear!" She deliberately feigned fright. "Oh, Fidget! Fidget help! Oh where are you!"

Suddenly, as the ghost floated towards her in a descending manner, Fidget jumped out from behind one of the markers in the row behind the one the "ghost" had risen from, and skilfully leaped over the stones, then pounced on their sheet-covered juvenile adversary.

From under the sheet, they could hear muffled, childish squealing, and the person inside was now wriggling about comically, try to free himself.

"You okay, Livy?" Fidget asked, keeping his wings firmly wrapped around the little bedcloth-ridden hooligan.

"I'm fine, Fidget," she giggled.

"Please, don't hurt me!" the little boy wailed from under the sheet.

Fidget looked at her, and she nodded. Pulling the sheet off, he revealed a tiny little boy bat who must've been around five years old. Standing up in front of Fidget, he only came halfway up the older bat's thighs. Fidget momentarily thought back with fondness to when he was that small.

"I was only playing," the little boy pleaded. "Please don't hurt me."

Olivia went over to the little one. "Hello there," she smiled, kneeling down till she was at his level, "My name is Olivia!"

"I'm Boris," the boy replied.

Olivia studied him. He was a cute little thing - his fur was very dark gray, almost black in colour, and he had big, earnest, whitish-yellow eyes. His elongated ears were drooped down in submission, at the moment, and his wings were slung low and loosely clasped, as though in shame. It was a look Fidget himself gave all too often, in fact.

"Where are your Mummy and Daddy, Boris?" Olivia inquired.

"Daddy's at work, Mummy's at home with Lisa, doing laundry."

Olivia wondered if "Lisa" was Boris's sister. "Why are you out here, by yourself, Boris?"

"Like I said, I was playing a game. Joey showed me how to play "ghosts" with the bed sheets, so I thought I could play with them out here, and pretend I was a real ghost, haunting the graves. I always go to my grandfather's grave - I never met him, but he was real nice. He wouldn't mind… I don't think."

"So, what do we do with "Boris", Livy?"

Boris looked up at the teenager standing over him. "Hey, you're that nice fellow who used to work for that mean old rat! Now you live with Basil of Baker Street!"

Fidget was surprised by this. Even among the bats, Basil was so well known? Wait, _he_ was now so well known? This little kid thought he was _nice_? True, he was still trying to make amends for his years working for Professor Ratigan, but he wouldn't have consciously called himself that. Actually though, hearing it come from the younger boy was kind of flattering.

"Uh, yeah, that's right!" Fidget grinned. "Well, maybe you should… go on home?"

"Fidget, we can't send him off by himself! Where do you live?"

"In East Sheen."

"Well, we'll take you back there now. Won't we, Fidget?"

"Will you carry me, piggy-back?" Boris turned to Fidget, hopefully.

"Uh, not all the way down there!"

"We'll get Toby to carry all of us. He's a big, friendly dog. You'll like him."

"_Please_, please carry me? At least to the street. _Please_?"

Fidget never cared much for carrying people around on his back, but he recalled the days when his father used to carry him around in that style, or the days when, after the accident which cost Fidget his lower right leg and his ability to fly, his father had carried him around in the sky, Fidget hugging the old bat tight. Besides, Boris was tinier than most folks he'd had to carry, in the past. A _lot_ tinier and lighter than some, he thought as he remembered one particularly important party he'd transported in such a style, not too long ago. "Well, alright, here we go!" Fidget swooped the giggling boy up, then planted him behind him on his back, and made off on all fours, Olivia walking beside him and chatting with the little boy all the time.

She learned in this way that Boris' mother was a laundress, which was why Boris and his older brother Joey had had contact with bed sheets, that his father was a gardener for Mr. Lemuel Kinnear, a wealthy entrepreneur but a notoriously stingy mouse, and that Boris, whom his family could not yet afford to send to school like Joey, was in the habit of sneaking off to great distances, like the graveyard, on his own.

"Don't your parents ever get worried?" Olivia inquired.

"If they find out I'm gone, they do. But I try to avoid 'em finding out."

By this time, they had reached the gate, and as they passed through the bars and onto the sidewalk, Olivia called for Toby. Boris stared amazed as the hound arrived.

"Wow! He _is_ a big doggie!" Hopping off Fidget's back, he ran over to Toby. The dog took a liking to Boris as well, for after he had sniffed him over, he licked his face. Laughing, the little bat climbed up over his snout, onto the top of his head. Olivia and Fidget followed after, and Olivia then told Toby where to go.

A little while later, they arrived on Boris's street, and stopped outside his home. Olivia stayed on Toby, but Fidget escorted little Boris up to the door, carrying the sheet under one wing. A few seconds after he knocked, it was answered by a tallish, wiry middle-aged woman-bat. She had the same fur colourings as her son, and rather greasy black hair tied back in a bun. Her webbed fingers were dry and chapped from washing and tending to laundry for years.

"Erm, 'evening doll. This your son?" Fidget motioned towards Boris, whom he rested his hand on the shoulder of.

"Boris! Where've you been now?" The lady ignored Fidget for a moment, confronting her child.

"I was vis'ting Grandpa, Mummy."

"Uh, yeah. Visiting him and scaring the heck out of me and my friend." Fidget showed the woman the sheet.

"Oh Boris! You know Mrs. Bucket expects that set of sheets done by morning! What on earth were you doing with it?" The woman examined the sheet, now considerably stained with grass.

"I was playin' ghost, Mummy," Boris said with puppy-dog eyes.

"I'll deal with you later, young man. Now you march yourself straight on in here!" The little boy did as his mother told, after saying goodnight to Fidget.*

After he'd disappeared from view, his mother turned to the teen who stood before her. "I must thank you, sir. He has a bad habit of going far away when we aren't looking. I'm always worried when he does that that he'll get hurt somehow, but Derek's always away gardening, my eldest son has school and his weekend job at the grocers, and my daughter and I must do the laundry. "

"No problem," Fidget shrugged. "Glad I could help." He corrected himself, "No, that my friend and I could help." He pointed to Olivia, who still sat atop Toby. The laundress smiled and waved, and Olivia waved back.

Fidget then offered, "If you want, I could take care of him, sometime."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to trouble you, sir -"

"Heheheheh, it'd be fine. He's a fun little kid."

"Oh, thank you very much. May I ask where you live?"

"Right now, I live at 221 Baker Street, working for the landlady, Judson."

"221 Baker Street? Where the detective Basil lives? Oh! You must be Fidget, the bat who used to work for Professor Ratigan!"

This surprised Fidget yet again. "Know him?"

"Thank heavens I don't!" She laughed. "But you know, you're something of a hero for helping to get him exiled. To us, at any rate." 'Us' meant the bat population of London and all the other nearby cities in England who'd received that relieving news.

"Mother?", a young, feminine voice called. A moment later, a girl-bat of about fourteen joined the woman at the door. She was skinny, and had hair like her mother's, but it was not styled, and fell loosely about her shoulders. She was a somewhat lighter shade of gray than the others in her family that Fidget had met, so far. Seeing and recognizing him, she smiled shyly.

"Fidget," the woman wrapped a wing around the girl, "This is my daughter, Lisa."

"Pleased to meet you," Lisa giggled. Fidget tipped his hat in greeting; Lisa's staring was making him a little edgy. She was admittedly a pretty young girl, but he was unused to that sort of attention.

"I read all about you in the papers," Lisa went on to say, "you're so very brave!"

Fidget blushed.

"May I have your autograph?"

"Um, uh," Fidget stammered.

"Oh Lisa, don't bother the boy with all that!" Her mother scolded, but Lisa had already extended a handkerchief and a pencil to Fidget - having overheard the conversation at the door, she'd come prepared. Fidget nervously took the handkerchief and the pencil, then thought over what to say, before writing a short, friendly message to her, and handing the materials back. She giggled again, then sauntered back into the house.

This encounter left Fidget with a lot to think about, and as he rejoined Olivia and Toby set off back to the home of the Flaversham's, he commented, "Did you know I was a legend among the bats, Livy?"

"No I didn't, Fidget. But isn't that good news?"

"I dunno." He certainly sounded unsure. "I know so few of them, and suddenly they all seem to know about me. That's kind of scary."

"It's not scary, Fidget! That's what it's like for celebrities! Mr. Basil and Dr. Dawson must be known by thousands of people of all sorts, and it doesn't bother them!"

"It doesn't?" Fidget cocked an eyebrow. "Have you seen Basil? He's always getting ruffled up about people asking for autographs or asking him questions about himself, or things like that. Kids, mostly."

"But Fidget, Basil's always got so many cases to solve. Those things distract him from his job."

Outside Olivia's window, Fidget went to push it open - thank goodness it hadn't locked in place when he closed it - and Olivia commented, "Well, our first case solved!"

"So, you plan on doing more?"

"Of course! We could work secretly as backups for Basil and Dr. Dawson. Whenever there's a case Basil doesn't want to do, or can't take the time for, and it's not too hard or dangerous, we can work on it! How about it?"

Fidget contemplated this. He had certainly enjoyed the evening, for the most part. There had been those few minutes when Boris's prank had succeeded in frightening the two of them out of their skins, but otherwise it had been very fun and exciting. Plus, solving that mystery was rather rewarding. "I'm in!" he declared, shaking hands with Olivia. They bid each other good night, and he helped her in through the window, then rode off back to Baker Street, on Toby. Olivia waved to them, then quietly pulled her shoes and socks off, shed her coat, scarf and hat, then climbed off of the window-side bench as silently as she could. She got changed for bed again, then slipped the note back into her night table drawer, and clambered into bed, sleepiness catching up on her after her busy night. After she said her prayers - she'd said them kneeling beside her bed with Hiram, earlier, but she thought she'd better say them again - she grinned. Her first case! And now she and Fidget had formed a partnership in detective work! How exciting, she thought as she dozed off, dreaming about what their next job may be.

**AN: Well, there's their first case! As for those things I've marked with an asterisk:**

**1. I'm still trying to think up a background for how that came about, but trying to explain it now would have made the chapter awfully long. I hinted later that Fidget managed to help get Ratigan exiled, eventually…**

**2. If you've been to the GMD fansite "The Game's Afoot!", it is suggested in the FAQ section, after a question on why Basil always called Olivia by the wrong surname, that he did it as a method of irking her to keep her mind off her troubles, for a moment, and that before she left, he did it again simply as a joke. I personally think that was a very clever observation… but I imagine if Basil knew about it, he would have said "Elementary!".**

**3. Yep, he sleeps in a closet - not to suggest anything. But the rung on which coats would normally be hung up works just fine for him; think about the way he slept on that faucet on the rum barrel!**

**4. His wings would probably get hurt by a coat, so I'm guessing the bats wear cloaks for warmth.**

**5. After all, bees communicate by dancing, and if you've seen a video of this, then try to picture Olivia and Fidget parading around searching for tracks as they did, and the two scenes look uncannily alike.**

**6. Perhaps it doesn't need to be said that for them, that's like saying "good day", to you and me.**


	2. From silver to apples

One week after his first case with Olivia, Fidget was outside emptying the dust-pan for Mrs. Judson, while he waited for Olivia to arrive. The rate of interesting in his life had kept up since that night; throughout the week he'd had a number of misadventures which usually ended either in a mess, or someone getting angry/mildly damaged, or both.

For instance, Monday evening, Mrs. Judson had been telling him as he helped her to dish up dinner that cleaning the floors was far too difficult for her liking, and, feeling for her, he decided during dinner - though it counted more as breakfast for him - to do something about it. When everyone else had retired, Fidget headed into the kitchen, swiped a pot of honey and a bag of flour, fetched a jug of water, and then snuck upstairs and grabbed the bar of soap from the bathroom. Carrying all these materials downstairs and wishing he'd gotten the soap first, he proceeded to Basil's chemistry set in the main room.

"I've seen him use this a hundred times; can't be hard!" Fidget proudly declared to no one in particular, before examining all the flasks, tubes, burners, and clutter which bedjewelled the table. To make a long story short, he mixed a little honey and flour here, a little soap there, splashed in several ounces of water plus what must have been several more cups of flour, ran what he could get of the mixture through the tube, and blended a few chemicals already in the flasks while he was at it. He would mix those in when the overhead process was complete. He was just thinking maybe he ought to mix in some dirt from the floor, to see if his new formula would dissolve it or not, when a low rumbling, followed by a loud hissing, occurred. Peering around his shoulder back to the chemistry table, he saw to his horror that the whole thing was ready to explode!*

Basil, Dawson, and Judson had all woken with a start upon hearing Fidget yelling for help, and all three went running down the stairs into the main room. When Basil opened the door, and observed what was happening, he wasted no time in running to the table and mixing in a few chemicals here and there. The reaction was stilled, but already a foamy substance had frothed up everywhere on the table, in a huge quantity. It had even begun to spill onto the floor.

Dawson and Judson had remained in the doorway, looking on in terror and surprise, Dawson in his pajamas and Judson in her dressing gown and nightcap. "Oh my word!" she exclaimed, "What in the name of heaven happened here?"

"Someone was poking around in things he obviously does not understand, that's what happened!" Basil frowned. Seeing a pair of gray ears behind the left arm of his favourite chair, Basil made his way over to the chair, and found a jittery young bat huddled up, glancing up at him sheepishly. "And here is our culprit!"

"Uh, heheheh, what makes you think I did it?"

Arms folded, Basil replied, "Oh come now, I shouldn't have to explain everything! What on earth were you doing with my chemistry set?"

"Oh my!" Mrs. Judson cried, "My honey! And my flour! Oh! And look at the floor!"

Basil and Fidget both looked round. In his fright, Fidget had dropped the honey and the flour onto the floor, the soap had somehow ended up inside the flour bag, and in all the places where the foam on the floor had dissipated was now a filthy-looking crust.

Next thing he knew, Fidget had three angry mice surrounding him, arms folded, feet tapping the floor, and he wished he had Olivia there to help him. "Um, I - well, I uh, I was just trying to help!" he pleaded.

"Help? You've ruined my flour and the soap, besides wasting the honey and making a mess that will take hours to clean up, and you call it help!" Judson exclaimed.

"I th-th-thought th-that it'd clean it! The floor! You wanted it to be easier, I thought honey, soap and flour'd make it easier! Easier on the floor!"

"You babble, Fidget!" Basil said. "Mrs. Judson, do fetch him a brandy; I'm quite anxious to hear this story in a way I can understand!"

A few minutes later, after Fidget had sipped at the brandy, thinking the expensive French brand was actually even better than Rodent's Delight, though Judson did not seem to serve very much of it, he more calmly explained his intentions to them. The landlady and the doctor each sipped a glass of the strong liquor themselves, the detective had declined. Whether it was the brandy, or simply a natural instinct to maintain optimism, the two older mice had begun laughing good naturedly about the event when the bat was finished, the detective, who was at work checking the extent of damage on his beloved chemistry set - to pleasing results - made no comment at this point.

Amendments were made, and Fidget promised to replace the honey, flour and soap first thing in the morning. He also offered to help Mrs. Judson try to get the dried scum off the floors, but the landlady was naturally averse to letting the young bat affiliate himself with floor-cleaning anymore, and so assured him she could do it herself.

The mice returned upstairs one by one, but Basil, who went last, turned to give a firm word to Fidget. "And just so we're clear, you are _not_ to experiment with my chemistry set unsupervised again. Understood?"

Fidget was used to being spoken to like a child, so he merely nodded meekly.

Wednesday evening, Fidget awoke overhearing Mrs. Judson scolding Basil for once again shooting at her good pillows. He later helped her to gather up the ruins of what had once been beautiful decorative pillows of satin and silk in varying greens, reds and yellows, and she instructed him to leave them outside. As he carried the feathers and shattered bits of material out in a box, however, he thought perhaps it might be better to try and repair them than to simply have new ones made with the feathers, or purchase new pillows altogether. "Won't Judson be surprised!" he giggled as he carried them back into the house under his wing, then stashed them away in his closet. He had then snuck into Mrs. Judson's room, while she was still downstairs, and fetched her sewing box from her dresser. He was nearly caught on the way out by Dr. Dawson, who was retiring early that night, due to a major surgery he had to perform the next day, but he cleverly hid the box inside a chest in the hallway. The chest's hinges were always kept oiled, so it made virtually no sound when opened and closed.

When he finally got the box down to his closet, he stopped, wondering if he should leave the door open or not. Each option had its benefits and drawbacks; leave it open and he could go in and out, but if anyone else were up, they might catch him and spoil the surprise. Close it, and the secret may be safe enough til morning, but he'd also be stuck in there till then. Deciding this might be better, he left the materials in the closet for now, then when everyone else was in bed, he fixed himself a sandwich in the kitchen, carried it with him back inside the closet, and shut the door tight.

It was then he realized he hadn't brought a kerosene lamp with him, but he admonished that he did not need one. He was a bat for crumb's sake! So, with that being settled, he set to work, rummaging through the box containing the pillow bits and feathers, looking at the pieces of silk and satin, matching thread colours from the sewing box to them, and sorting everything into piles as best as he could, given the limited amount of space.

By the time morning came, he had managed to get one and a half of the five pillows done, and he wondered if he should have made about four more sandwiches; this was taking longer than he'd planned. Perhaps he should have brought something to drink as well… but that would have had setbacks that need not be written.

Dr. Dawson, having slept early, was downstairs first, which, with Basil being a _very_ early riser, was something of a rare occurrence. He hoped to read the newspaper before breakfast, which Mrs. Judson had promised she'd make a half hour earlier than usual, due to his appointed task that morning.

Fidget, overhearing him, had been nervous that the doctor might open the door, but as Dawson had no reason to suspect Fidget was locked inside, he need not have worried.

It was only when Judson herself came down that Fidget was discovered. She wanted him to prepare the toast while she took care of eggs and bacon, as usual - the first time Fidget had helped her make toast he'd become more toasted than had the bread, but he'd drastically improved since then - but she could not find him anywhere. She looked outside, and he wasn't there. She checked upstairs, again, not there. She looked around the main floor, but still no sign of him, nor could Dr. Dawson give any clues on where he might have gotten to. Just as she was thinking she ought to check the cellar, she passed by the closet, and heard a spritely tune being hummed by a gravely voice inside.

"Oh, the poor thing's locked in," she muttered as she began opening it. For the second time that week she got the surprise of her life. Facing away from her - he'd been leaning against the door - was a young bat, hard at work with what looked like her sewing box, putting the finishing touches on a very crudely-stitched green pillow. From the looks of it, he'd already finished a red one, but what a job he'd done! Bits of feather poked out from the material in various places, as if he'd tried to stuff the pillow while still putting it together, there was way-too-heavy stitching running in streams throughout the object, and where he'd obviously run out of thread, he'd replaced it with threads of completely unsuited colours (he couldn't waste the red thread that best matched the other red pillow, after all).

Not even Judson's own sons had been this much trouble at Fidget's age, she lamented as she confronted the startled lad about this. Better yet, they hadn't even been this difficult when they were the age Fidget tended to act like!

Once again, he tried to explain himself, but got horribly tangled up in his words, once again, brandy was distributed, to calm them both down ("_Lemons if he doesn't turn me into a drinker!_" the landlady thought), once again, when she knew what was going on in his head, she decided to laugh it off and once again, he promised to help repair the damage; he'd pay for new thread and new pillows. Judson dismissed the part about the pillows; the money she allotted Fidget every week would take months to amount to enough for that; replacing the threads would do just fine.

/

This should give the basic idea of what that week was like for Fidget. Most would be eager to forget such mishaps, and especially be reluctant to share them with others, but Fidget and Olivia had taken to confiding in their troubles the way schoolchildren would confide in theirs. For Olivia, Fidget would generally try the first method he thought of, to cheer her up, which usually worked (though not always the way he'd intended). For Fidget, Olivia would usually react in the same way a good best friend would probably react; lots of laughter, assurance that his heart was in the right place, and reminders that it all turned out not so bad in the end. Granted, Olivia did get exasperated by Fidget in his not-so-shining moments as much as everyone else, but at her age, she was thankfully not in a position where using up the flour, soap, honey, or sewing materials was liable to affect her in a costly manner, so she was free to be more lighthearted about it. Therefore, Fidget was eager to relate these events to her when she came.

Olivia, meanwhile, made her way to 221 Baker Street, again on her own, for Hiram was at work crafting new toys for his shop. She couldn't wait to see her friends again, and she couldn't wait to see what she and Fidget could take care of for Basil this time.

But first off was visiting the Great Mouse Detective and his assistant. She sat and listened intently as Basil and Dawson - neither of whom was preoccupied at the moment - related to her their latest case; a holdup at the train station which had resulted in the death of one and the injuries of three, and how Basil had, by examining the bullets used once they'd been extracted, determined that two separate guns had been utilized, and how he had gotten, from eyewitness accounts, the information that only one assailant had been present.

At this point, Fidget returned from clearing the dust-pan, and went over to Olivia, saying, "Livy, wait til you hear -"

"Shh! Fidget! Mr. Basil's telling me about his case!" Olivia frowned.

Fidget stopped dead in his tracks. Olivia resumed listening to Basil's story; when other clues had been collected and put together, he'd deduced that the culprit was Double-shooter Nicky, a mouse wanted on accounts of murder and robbery at varying levels of impressiveness, and who was distinguished by always shooting a victim with two guns at once. He was just going to explain how he and Dawson had tracked him down, and finally gotten him landed where he belonged, when a knocking came at the door.

"If you'll excuse me," Basil pardoned, before going over and answering. Standing outside was a somewhat heavyset gentleman mouse, twiddling his hat in his hands. He was dressed in expensive clothes, but they were currently in a rather sorry state, and he was breathless, as though he'd been running for a good distance.

"Are you Basil of Baker Street, by any chance?", he panted.

"None other!" Basil beamed. "I can see you're in need of assistance. I don't suppose it has anything to do with your wallet, cufflinks and silver buttons being stolen from you in a… rather vicious mugging?"

The mouse stared at him, aghast. "But, but I don't see how -"

As Basil admitted him inside, he explained, "Elementary, good sir! In your haste to come here - I imagine the ordeal took place no more than half an hour ago, you've neglected to straighten yourself out again quite shamefully. Combining this with the scrapes and bruises you've acquired, it is extremely easy to see, therefore, that the assailants - for there must have been at least three, by the looks of it, pinned you down, yanked your wallet out from your pocket - pulling out the inner lining in the process - and tore the cufflinks from the wrists of your coat sleeves. I only guessed that the buttons were silver, but as you appear to be a wealthy gentleman, I assume they must be made of some costly material, otherwise I cannot see why you would go around in public wearing a coat missing all of its buttons, and looking distinctly as if they were rather forcefully removed."

"Well, well they were silver, as a matter of fact, as were the cufflinks," the awestruck mouse replied. "I always wear those cufflinks with this coat, to be honest. But there were four of them, the scoundrels who robbed me. It was down in Green Park,* as I went on my morning stroll. I happened to notice four questionable-looking young men loitering beneath a human bench, but I thought nothing of it. When I walked past the same bench on my way back, however, they suddenly ganged up on me."

"Indeed," Basil mused, "Now, understand that I need to know every last detail of what happened. What did the young fiends look like?"

"Well, as far as I can recall, none of them were particularly clean or groomed. They were all thin, two were tall and one was average height. One wore a dark green jacket with matching trousers and a turquoise-green top, and a cap, another wore a cap and a purple shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and black trousers, and I think the shorter fellow wore clothing similar to the first, but without the jacket.* I didn't get a good look at the fourth one; he held me from behind."

Basil fingered his chin, listening to the descriptions. "And you're absolutely _certain _you noticed nothing else _at all_?"

"Yes, I've told you all I can describe."

"You noticed no details about their faces?"

"Well, aside from looking somewhat drunk, they were rather average, in my opinion."

"Yes, yes, but opinions aside, is there _no _further information you can provide us with?"

The gentleman tried his best to remember anything else he could about the adversaries, but he could think of nothing, and it began to fluster him.

"Now, now, good sir," Dawson chimed in, "Perhaps you should sit down, and Mrs. Judson shall bring you a nice hot cup of tea, to calm your nerves."

"Yes, thank you," came the reply as the gentleman selected the green chair by the fireplace. Dawson went to the kitchen to inform Mrs. Judson of their guest.

"Hmmm…" Basil meanwhile pondered the descriptions. He wondered if these young scoundrels were any he'd come across in his career of crime-fighting before, but without a proper description of any of their facial features, he couldn't be sure. Almost all the information he had received so far, regarding their appearances, involved their clothing. It would be guessing, of course, but, supposing they were ruffians - and based on their behaviour in this incident, it did seem a valid hypothesis - they may have a limited supply of clothing. He personally estimated that over half of the criminals in London had been in cahoots with Professor Ratigan, so he decided to question Fidget, and see if he could recall any of his former colleagues ever wearing clothes like those the gentleman had described.

"Mr. Basil, what are you going to do?" Olivia inquired as Basil dashed past her.

"Not now, Miss Flooneysham," Basil quickly dismissed, "there is work to be done, here!"

Olivia was nonetheless very curious; if there was one thing she loved, it was watching Basil work on a case. She followed him as he went into the corridor, dodging past Mrs. Judson as she suddenly emerged from the kitchen with a tray containing a pot of tea and some of her baked goods.

She watched as Basil knocked on the closet door. "Fidget!" he called.

The closet was silent. He called again, adding, "I know you're in there, and I require your assistance."

After another moment of silence, Fidget mumbled, "I'm sleeping."

"Nonsense," Basil said as he opened the door and carried the bat out, setting him upright on the floor, "for one thing, I'm well aware that you snore quite audibly in your sleep, and you were quiet. You were obviously sulking after Miss Flaversham admonished you for interrupting my story."

Hearing this, Olivia hung her head in guilt. Perhaps she could have been a little nicer in the way she'd asked him to be quiet - it seemed he'd been excited about something. But she had just been so engrossed in listening to Basil's case.

As was normal under such circumstances, Fidget felt a little like his privacy had been invaded, so he remained aloof and indignant; wings folded, scowling, and looking away from the detective.

"Fidget, I must ask a few questions of you on an extremely urgent matter; I would appreciate if you would follow me into the living room."

Now Fidget became fearful. "B-b-but I didn't do anything!"

"I'm not suggesting you did; but a gentleman has been mugged and assaulted, and I need to know if you can help us determine who the culprits are. Now, if you will please come along," Basil began edging Fidget towards the door.

Still feeling miffed, Fidget snapped, "Alright, alright, alright!", and stomped off ahead of Basil, tripping in the doorway to the living room in the process.

He picked himself up again before Basil reached him, and was the first to enter the living room, Basil and then Olivia following suit.

"Now, Mr. Horwood," Basil announced.

The gentleman looked up, "But, but how did you know my name?"

"Ah, I heard you relating it to Dr. Dawson as I was exiting the room. Now then, I have brought Mrs. Judson's servant in; I trust you are aware that he used to work for the nefarious Professor Ratigan?" Basil never failed to roll out that name with theatrical enthusiasm.

Eyeing Fidget carefully, Mr. Horwood replied, "Um, yes. I-I take it you're saying _he's _actually allowed to live _here_, now?"

"That is correct," Basil said a little impatiently; it was natural for a stranger like Horwood to not feel sure whether Fidget had truly changed his side of the law or not, but he didn't have time for such suspicions. "From the admittedly limited information you gave me about the blackguards who robbed you, I thought perhaps Fidget might be able to give some clues as to their identities."

Glancing at Mr. Horwood's fine clothes, in the not-so-fine state they were in, Fidget asked Basil in a rather rude tone, "Someone actually robbed _him_?" He refused to look at Mr. Horwood while he spoke, having already decided upon the old mouse's reaction to his presence that he did not like him.

"Ahem," Basil coughed, "Mr. Horwood is a wealthy gentleman; his wallet, silver buttons and cufflinks were stolen from him in a brutal attack by four ruffians, while he was out for a walk in the park this morning."

Gawking at the detective upon hearing this, Fidget cocked an eyebrow momentarily at the gentleman, who did not look like he felt comfortable under the scrutiny of a lad of a second-class species. "You ask me; any guy who goes walking about like that's just asking to be robbed!"

Mr. Horwood scowled, saying, "What did he just say!", Dawson shook his head in his hand, and Olivia, watching from just inside the doorway, had to suppress the urge to giggle at Fidget's defiant behaviour. Basil cleared his throat again. "You must excuse the bat, Mr. Horwood; I imagine he is just feeling a little cranky for being kept up this late - you understand it is a late hour for his kind?"

"Hmmph!" was all the gentleman said in reply. Likewise, Fidget crossed his wings and turned away, eyes closed and mouth clamped shut.

"Eh, yes, well, we'll have this over soon enough," Basil continued, hoping to bring minds back to the matter at hand. "Now, I've called Fidget in here, because I want to know if he can recall anyone working for the Professor, dressed the way you described those blackguards."

Mr. Horwood maintained a skeptical frown as Basil repeated the description of the mice to the bat; although he, like the rest of London, was very familiar with the stories about Basil's unmatched brilliance in the art of sleuthing, so had he heard rumours about the detective's eccentricities. None of them frosted the cake with as thick an icing as this, however. To associate with a former criminal! One who used to serve as the right-hand man of the most dangerous and diabolical criminal mind England and perhaps the world had ever hosted! And hadn't it always been said that Basil and Ratigan had considered themselves mortal enemies? True, the young bat had, according to the newspapers, at one point begun secretly assisting Basil, working from the inside and eventually helping to get Ratigan exiled. True, the relief over this was so widespread that Fidget was actually pardoned for his crimes, as a reward for his hand in the job. That was all Mr. Horwood remembered from the articles; it seemed to him there were many holes in the fabric. Nevermind that the rightful punishment for Ratigan would have been a public hanging, and he could not see how a punishment as soft as banishment had come to be finalized. Even if the bat had, for whatever reason, decided to switch sides, what was Basil doing? Better yet, though his landlady seemed a nice enough old woman, and very hospitable, she must be a screw loose herself, hiring the bat and letting him stay there.

"Now, Fidget," Basil was saying, "and pray, think this over carefully. Do you remember any of your former affiliations wearing similar apparel to these mice?"

Fidget just stared at him blankly. Basil had used too many complex words for him.

Rolling his eyes, Basil repeated in plain English, "Did any of Ratigan's thugs ever dress like that?"

"Yeah," Fidget said almost instantly. "Three of 'em almost always dressed like that. Jack, Jerry, and George. They weren't related - well, maybe Jack and George were - but they pretty much acted like brothers. They were always together; the guys had a tendency to go in small groups, 'cept for me."

"Jack, Jerry, and George, you say? Can you tell me anything else about them? Last names or backgrounds, for instance?"

"Not much. Never did a lot with them. I think George once said his last name was McCormick or something. Jerry I think was from Thirsk. That's about it."

"Well, it can't be helped, I suppose. Now how about their behaviour? What sorts of things did they do for Ratigan?"

"Well, um, they were always there when Ratigan had a whole bunch of us doing something. Jack and Jerry always carried guns, and George had a knife, so they must have done some sort of dirty work. Probably theft."

"Do you mean to say that as one of the Professor's most important henchmen, you knew so little about the others?" Mr. Horwood suddenly addressed Fidget, perplexity dominating his voice. He found it very strange, the way the lad seemed to "act out" everything he was saying.*

Fidget frowned as he turned to him again, "Hey, gimme a break! I only did what the boss wanted, or I kept to myself! How the hell should I know what the others were like?"

"Come come now, Fidget!" Basil reprimanded as once again Horwood looked affronted, "get ahold of yourself. One mustn't lose their heads in times like this." Besides, he knew that what Fidget had said was only 90% true. Fidget had been friends with a select few of the other thugs, namely Bill the Lizard and Bartholomew, and those in their cluster, because his father had been friends with them. He also often played poker with the others when they met up in the Rat Trap Saloon, during their breaks. But, unless he was sent off on a mission together with anyone else, it did stop there. Basil often thought that one of the reasons the two of them had begun to get along so well after the young lad had reformed was because of the traits they shared; in this case, their lack of ability to befriend others, and their tendency to cling to those few friendships they did succeed in forming. He had noticed long ago how much Fidget doted on Olivia, in sharp contrast to the way he had treated her when they'd first met. One never expected a seventeen year-old boy to be so chummy with an eight year-old girl, but taking into consideration that the boy's mental maturity ranged from five to ten, that he'd grown up around mostly adults instead of having other children around, and that the girl was in some ways mature beyond her years, and also caring and understanding, and a good listener, it made more sense.

"If you're certain you've told us all you know…" Basil waited for Fidget to intercept. Fidget was quiet, so Basil held his hand out, gesturing that he was supposed to answer him.

"Yeah; can't think of anything else."

"Very well then, we'll make do with what you've said. Thank you for your trouble, Fidget." Basil dismissed him as a servant would be dismissed.

Fidget began to walk away, then he stopped. "Wait! Wait! There's one other thing!"

"Oh?" Basil looked up again.

"They were caught and arrested the night of Mousetoria's party! Back in June!"

"Arrested?" Dawson asked, "Well then Basil, it couldn't have been them!"

"Maybe, maybe not, Dawson," Basil replied. "There was in fact a prison break at Pentonville in the last fortnight; we shall have to check into whether or not any prisoners with the names Jack, Jerry or George, or anyone with the name McCormick, escaped. Dawson and I shall look into that this afternoon, Mr. Horwood," Basil turned his attention back to his client.

As Fidget left through the door to the corridor, Olivia followed. "Fidget," she said.

The bat turned to her, frowning and saying nothing. It was amazing what a grudge he could hold, if he felt offended.* "I'm sorry about the way I spoke. I was just so interested in what Mr. Basil was saying."

She looked so guilty and sincere, that Fidget's anger was subdued. "Well, I guess I shouldn't have interrupted," he replied.

"So we're still friends?" She smiled.

"Of course. I'd never let anything get in the way of that!" Fidget dramatically declared, one hand over his chest and the other pointing up to the ceiling.

Olivia giggled. "So, what did you want to say earlier?""Oh, just stuff about what happened over the week." Fidget then told her about the adventures he'd had, trying to make life easier for Mrs. Judson and ending up doing the complete opposite. Olivia enjoyed hearing about them, just as he knew she would. When he was finished, she mentioned, "I didn't know you could sew, Fidget."

"Not very well, I guess, but yeah. Had to keep my clothes going, after all."

"I suppose your experiment explains why Basil's letters weren't on the table today!" Olivia laughed.

"Yeah, he's still cleaning up after that. How was I supposed to know flour and soap stuck?"

"Where did he put them?"

"I think he moved them up to his room."

"Oh," Olivia hung her head sadly. That put a damper on her chances of finding a new case. Not that it would have been exactly right to pry into the letters, but it wouldn't have entirely been snooping, since she could have easily picked out the list of "least urgent" cases, and selected one from there. But to go into someone else's room - especially a grownup's, and rummage around there?

Perhaps Fidget guessed what she was thinking, because he said, "Aw, don't worry about that!", and went up the stairs, into Basil's room, and emerged about twenty seconds later, carrying a rather tall stack of letters down.

"I think these are the ones he's least interested in," he explained.

"Oh, Fidget, you know you shouldn't have done that!" Olivia protested.

"Yeah, but you didn't wanna do it, and I know you want a new case, so," Fidget set the letters on the floor and shrugged.

Olivia smiled, "Thank you, Fidget." The two of them settled down, Olivia lying on her stomach and reading through the letters, Fidget sitting cross-legged on the other side of the pile, waiting.

"Aha!" Oliva whispered; she'd been going to shout it, but at the last second she realized that would have been an excellent way to attract attention. "Fidget, here's one!"

"What? What?" Fidget asked, louder than Olivia had spoken, crawling over behind her.

"Shh," she cautioned, "This."

Fidget looked at the letter over Olivia's shoulder. "Apple stealing? Who steals apples?"

"Someone who's really hungry, I guess," Olivia joked. "Though they'd have to be pretty strong. It's from a Mrs. Samantha Lottridge, who says someone's been stealing her jars of apple _preserves_, you know, jellies and sauce and things, from the apple tree in the yard of her house. She says she likes to keep them in a cellar under the tree, because she makes a lot of them for selling, and it's easier to store them there. But she's noticed that her jars have been disappearing, by the _dozen_, every night for almost a week!"

"Gosh, someone sure likes her stuff. Can't she just lock 'em up or something?"

"She does keep it locked, but whoever did it knows how to jimmy the lock."

"And you want to take this one? What happened to sticking to ones that aren't too dangerous?"

"If it was so dangerous, would Basil have put it in his least important collection? All we need is the right equipment, like a net to capture the person."

"Livy…." Fidget narrowed his eyes, "are you expecting _me _to do the catching again?"

"Of course! Don't tell me you're scared, Fidget. You've done that sort of stuff for years!"

"I never liked any of it. Anyone of them might have been able to fight me, and some did."

Olivia wasn't sure how to get her friend to follow along, then an idea came into her mind. "Alright then, if that's how you want it. I'll go by myself. At least Toby will be there."

/

That night, Olivia sat beside her window at 9:30 again, watching for Fidget and Toby, and still grinning about how she'd managed to convince Fidget not to bail out by suggesting that she take the case without him.

When they arrived, Olivia asked, as Fidget helped her down, "Did you remember the net?"

"Yeah, luckily Basil has one."

"Oh," Olivia paused, "that's right. I guess you had to go in his room again." She had to remember to look at and memorize every detail, especially when concocting a plan.*

"No problem," Fidget shrugged. "Done it once, you can do it again."

"Alright then. Toby, sic'em!" She whispered, and Toby took off, Olivia having told him that afternoon before she went home, where to go.

On the way, Fidget still had trouble understanding the plan. "So uh, when we get there, we just wait around until the robber comes? What happens if the lady finds us? She'll think we're the robbers."

"I'm still having trouble with that part, but we aren't going to just stand around, Fidget. We'll have to look for clues, of course."

"And what about Toby? If this guy comes and sees him there, he'll get suspicious, right?"

"Um," Olivia had really been having a hard time working on this one - she hadn't realized before just how hard sleuthing in secret could be. Even with the missing components, this had been the best plan she could come up with without letting anyone else know. The only indication she'd given a single soul, other than Fidget, Toby and herself, was the letter she'd left for her father, in case he discovered her gone, and even at that, there was the hopeful possibility he would not find out.

It was not long before they arrived at the home of Miss Lottridge. They slipped in through the gap between the boards of the fence and the ground below, taking in the details of the place. The human house was quaint, even from a mouse perspective. On the right side of the house, from where they viewed it, beneath a grove of bushes, was what must have been the door to Lottridge's residence. And at the front of the yard, again on the right, was the apple tree.

Olivia poked her head out the other side of the fence again, whispering to Toby, "Now, Toby, you have to go around the block while we're in here, so no one thinks you're waiting for us. Take your time, and be careful!"

Toby wagged his tail and licked her face. "Oh Toby," she laughed, then backed into the yard on the other side again. Toby followed the girl's orders, and proceeded to begin leisurely sauntering around the block, sniffing at various, random things, and trying his best to be inconspicuous.

Meanwhile, Olivia turned to Fidget, and whispered, "Now we have to search, Fidget. You look around the tree, and I'll look at the rest of the yard around it."

"What if you get caught?"

"I'll scream, what else?"

"Oh, good idea. The woman's gonna hear that for sure!"

"If she hears me screaming for help, she'll probably not think I'm a thief."

"Yeah, but she might think _I_ am!"

"I could tell her you're with me. Now shh, let's start looking."

Olivia then walked away from the tree, taking out her magnifying glass, while Fidget crept around the tree, muttering, "Livy, I hope you know what you're doing. Crazy girl - Ow!" he groaned upon banging his head on a root he tried to crawl under.

From a yard away, Olivia called out, "Shh!", then continued her search, thinking, "_If I could hear him from here, who else could hear him?_"

As Olivia examined the ground, she found it simply littered with tracks, and obviously of more than one person. Examining the tracks for about ten minutes, she determined there were 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 individuals who had recently walked about here, minus herself; there may have been more; a good deal of the tracks had been run over in several places by a long line riveting through the ground. Peering at the line through the glass, she realized they were the tracks of a wheel. A wheel…a wheeled device… "_A wheelbarrow! Of course! Whoever's stealing so many of her jars at once must carry them off somehow! They're using a wheelbarrow!_"

The footprints surrounding the wheelbarrow tracks all appeared to belong to grownups. Probably one of the sets of footprints belonged to Miss Lottridge, but that left four who could potentially be those of the robber. Perhaps there were more than one? Scary thought. Olivia stood up for a few moments and processed this. She decided to go back to the tree, and see how many of the tracks lead there. When she got there, she found to her disturbance that all the pairs of tracks did indeed move in that direction. If she wasn't mistaken, they would probably all lead to the trap door leading to the cellar in which Miss Lottridge's wares were kept. "_Oh no,_" she thought, "_they do. Four grownups, stealing those wares. They'll be a lot harder to catch than just one. A _lot _harder. Maybe - maybe I'll have to rethink this…_"

"Livy? Found anything?" Fidget asked.

"Yep, and you're not going to like this. I think there are four of them. All grownups."

"_Four_? Oh great. How am I suppose to net four?"

"Don't look at me like that, Fidget! I didn't know a whole bunch of adults would steal apple preserves from an old lady!"

"Great, just great. If -" Fidget stopped, and pulled Olivia in front of him. "Sounds like they're here!"

"Where do we hide?" Olivia asked.

"Under here! Under here!" Fidget became excited as he dragged Olivia under the root he'd banged his head on before. They huddled up underneath, after edging as far into the shadowy space under the root and near the trunk as they could get. They sat there, Fidget protectively holding Olivia close to him, as they listened.

Sure enough, several men's voices could be heard, though they could barely make out what they were saying, and the squeak of a rusty wheelbarrow being pushed along could be heard as well.

"Hold that wheelbarrow steady, George!" One voice suddenly called out, and it sounded like a second voice replied, "Right Jack!"

"_Those voices sound familiar. Wait - George? Jack?_" Fidget pondered this evidence. "_Could they be…_"

"Looks like we're runnin' short, guys," another voice muttered, "there's only about forty bottles left."

"What are we going to do when those are used up, Chris?"

"Don't worry 'bout that, I know at least three other places we can go. Let's just snatch all we can carry, and get these back to the hideout."

"Johnny sure likes his preserves, don't he?"

"Shut up, George! You're enough to wake up a neighbourhood a mile away."

"Sorry Chris," George replied submissively.

"Fidget," Olivia shuddered, "are - are those the guys you told Basil about? The ones that used to work for Ratigan?"

"Yeah, it's them." His grip on her tightened ever so subtly.

"Hey, what's that? Sounded like someone talking!"

"You're hearing things, Jerry. That was the wind."

"It can't be! There is no wind! Someone else is here!"

"Both of you, be quiet!" came Chris's voice. "You're probably hearing yourselves jabbering away. If you want us to get caught, keep this up!"

"But Chris -"

"If anyone tries to stop us, we can take care of'im. Now let's scram!"

Once again, their voices became unintelligible. The squeaking of the wheelbarrow could be heard once more, and presently these sounds all faded into the distance.

Fidget and Olivia remained where they sat, letting their heartbeats settle down. Eventually, Olivia spoke. "I guess this means they did escape from prison after all."

"We'd better wait a little longer, Livy. We don't know where they went, or if they'll come back."

"Maybe we can guess, Fidget. What way did it sound like they went?"

"That's the thing. It sounded like they went towards the house, didn't it? Why wouldn't they go the way we came in?"

"Maybe there's another entrance back there, and they use it to avoid being seen by mice on the streets.""Livy, it's night. I thought respectable mice aren't out now."

"Maybe they don't want to take any chances. But if they are the fellows who stole Mr. Horwood's cufflinks and buttons, why do they want apple preserves as well?"

"Eat them, maybe?"

"Oh don't be an ass, Fidget! Anyone eating that much jelly or sauce would get a tummy ache! Let's do what Basil would do. Look at all the clues we've learned so far. They escaped two weeks ago, and they started stealing dozens of Miss Lottridge's preserves just less than a week ago. Fidget, I think they're getting them to sell them!"

"And they won't give any of the money back to Lottridge, I bet! What about that Johnny guy?"

"Who?"

"I think George said something about a guy called "Johnny" who liked that stuff."

"Oh," Olivia thought about this. "Well maybe Johnny owns a company, and they're selling the preserves to him, for him to sell?" She realized she was getting dangerously close to jumping to conclusions, and she sighed, "I sort of wish Basil could help us."

"Yeah, but then he'd have to know about us, right?"

"That's true. Wait!" Her face brightened. "Maybe there's a way to let him know what we found out tonight, without actually letting him know it was us!"

"Huh?"

"Got any paper?"

"No. Never thought I'd need any."

"Darn. Oh well, when I go home, I'll write down everything we discovered, then I'll write a letter to Mr. Basil, pretending to be someone else."

"Won't he recognize your writing?"

"Good thinking. Oh! I could use Daddy's typewriter!"

"Okay, but how would you get the letter to him? They take a long time to get around."

"Not if someone delivers it directly to him! Fidget, you could come by in the morning after Daddy and I go to Church, and pick it up!"

"Nothing doing. Judson takes me to Church with everyone else, and I'm dog tired when it's done."

"Then what are we supposed to do? The letter's got to get to Basil somehow!"

Both were quiet for a long time, trying to find a solution. Finally, they said simultaneously, "Toby!"

"Toby can come over to our place and get the letter; I'll have to leave it somewhere outside. Oh, wait a minute. Even if the mice don't pay attention to him, the humans probably will notice him if he's alone! I've heard they don't like for dogs to be left unguarded."

"That's silly. Toby's fine on his own!"

"Still, there has to be some way. What if when his owner - I think Mr. Basil said the man's name is Mr. Holmes - walks him tomorrow, they could come down that way?"

"If they were heading in another direction, and suddenly Toby pulls him down to your street, won't the guy find that strange?"

"Well, it's the best idea we've come up with yet," Olivia sighed. "What time is it, anyway? We'd better get home as soon as possible. I hope Toby's back by now."

Fidget let go of Olivia, then crawled over and peeked out from under the root. Clambering out and checking around, he found that the coast was clear, and called back, "Alright Livy, it's safe."

Olivia then joined him outside, and said, "Wait, Fidget. Before we leave, maybe we should look for another entrance into this yard, in the back, so we can let Basil know how those men came in here."

"_The kid's sure taking her chances,_" Fidget thought as they took each other's hands and snuck down to the back. When they got there, they found that someone - the thieves, probably - had dug a tunnel under the fence. Fidget whispered, "Wait here, toots," and crawled down inside the tunnel. Olivia did as he told her, and waited beside the hole, growing more and more concerned when he was gone for about fifteen minutes.

At last, Fidget returned, beaming excitedly, "Livy, look at this! Look what I found!" He showed her a spade, which had been left behind inside the tunnel.

"Oh good, Fidget! Mr. Basil could use this shovel as evidence too!"

"Are you gonna leave it for Toby to pick up too?"

"Um… how about this? You take it home with you tonight, and keep it hidden until morning, then when you get the letter from Toby, you give it to Basil."

"Yeah! I could, um, I could leave them on the doorstep, and knock like a client was there, then hide when he answers and finds 'em there!"

"Great!" Olivia clapped her hands, before remembering that they must be as discreet as possible. "By the way Fidget, why did it take you so long?"

"That's a long tunnel, Livy! Goes all the way to the front of the lawn on the other side of this fence. They even moved a stone overtop of it, to hide the fact it's there."

"That was smart. Well, I guess we should go now."

/

The young sleuth and her assistant made their way under the fence at the front of Miss Lottridge's lawn, and called for Toby. Toby came around the corner, greeting them happily. Olivia briefly explained things to him, and he nodded upon her asking him to see to it that he retrieved the letter and brought it back to Baker Street, to give to Fidget when he and the others returned from Church. They then climbed aboard him and set off for Olivia's home, Fidget pointing out the stone covering the other end of the tunnel as they passed by the house on whose yard it was located.

When they said goodnight, and Olivia was back in her room once more, she set about listing the details of what they'd found out that night, and even prepared a handwritten draft of the letter. She would get up early and type it up on the typewriter before Church. Glancing at her clock, she saw to her disappointment that it was well past midnight. Like Basil, she was a naturally early riser, but it may be harder than usual now. Well, failure wasn't an option; she couldn't fail the Church, nor could she fail Basil of Baker Street!

**AN: Ooh, a two-part mystery this time! Yes, I found while I was thinking this one out - and the thinking out's far from done, even now - that it was getting a little too complicated for just one chapter. Hopefully they'll have this case solved in the next one, though. To explain the asterisks in this chapter:**

**1. I have no idea what would really happen if Fidget's experiment were actually performed in real life; I made that reaction up.**

**2. I chose "Green Park" because, although it states that it was in the 18th**** century, not the 19****th**** century, the Wikipedia article on the park mentions that it was once frequented by shady folks such as robbers.**

**3. The thugs I used here are from the scene in the film during the song number "The World's Greatest Criminal Mind"; they are among the mice standing on top of each other and balancing an assortment of jewels and gold coins. If you look at a screenshot of them, I gave the name "Jack" to the one in green at the top on the right of the tower of mice, and "Jerry" is the guy with the purple shirt and dark trousers below him. "George" is the little fellow standing on the board, next to the mouse tower, and "Chris" from later on in the chapter is the questionable-looking guy with the light blue jacket and hat opposite "Jack". I'm going to have fun thinking up what is the meaning behind their recent doings, oh boy!**

**4. After all, it just wouldn't be Fidget if he wasn't demonstrating whatever he said with his hands, to confusing results!**

**5. I say this, alluding to the way he treated her in the film. Just because she stomped on his foot and insulted him about his appearance, he snapped at and mocked her, and then he looked so triumphant when he thought Ratigan would throw her off his aircraft at the end!**

**6. And this alludes to my one-shot "Learn from Your Mistakes". Olivia's really improved since then, alright, but she still forgets sometimes.**


	3. Close calls and flashbacks

It was raining the next morning, as Olivia awoke and crept downstairs. Hiram was not yet awake, and he would not be making breakfast that day, because they had to fast for Church, so Olivia felt secure in that he would not catch her using his typewriter to compose the final draft of Basil's message. Clutching the paper in one hand, she snuck into their small living room and seated herself at the desk where the typewriter was. She applied a clean sheet of paper, then began copying her written message:

"_Basil of Baker Street,_

_I have information on the convicts Jack, Jerry and George, which might help you in their case. They are the ones stealing apple preserves from Miss Samantha Lottridge's stores, together with a fellow convict named Chris. They have dug out a secret entrance to the place, starting at the front of the yard of the house behind the one on the right of hers, hidden under a rock, and ending under the fence on the side of her yard. Here is one of the shovels they used to dig it out. Also, I heard them say that they are stealing the preserves for someone named "Johnny". I'm not sure what this has to do with their robbing Mr. Horwood, but I hope it helps._

_Anonymous."_

Just as Olivia finished, she stopped, as the thought had suddenly hit her that Basil might wonder upon reading this letter how the writer knew about Horwood's mugging. Knowing how smart Basil was, she didn't doubt that even the shadow of a hint could give her hand in the solving of this case away, so she had to make absolutely sure that there was no reason for Basil to suspect her. Praying that she would have enough time before her father woke up, Olivia crumpled up the paper, took another clean sheet, wrote a new draft by hand, leaving out any indication that the writer knew about any crime except the Lottridge case, and then proofread it:

"_Basil of Baker Street,_

_I have information on the thieves stealing from Miss Samantha Lottridge's stores of apple preserves. I observed them last night; their names are Chris, Jack, Jerry and George. They are stealing the apple preserves for a fellow named "Johnny", from what I heard. They have dug out a secret entrance to the place, starting at the front of the yard of the house behind the one on the right of hers, hidden under a rock, and ending under the fence on the side of her yard. Here is one of the shovels they used to dig it out. I know Miss Lottridge is very upset about her wares being stolen, and I know she's written to you for help. I hope with this information, you can solve her case._

_Anonymous."_

Satisfied that this letter would get the job done, and also make it seem like the writer was simply a concerned neighbour of the old woman, Olivia typed the message up again on the typewriter, folded the paper, put it in an envelope and sealed it. Just then, she heard footsteps, and then her father's voice calling out, "Olivia! Where are you!"

"I'm downstairs, Daddy!", she called up to him, standing beside the staircase.

Hiram sighed with relief, "Are you alright, dear?"

"Yes Daddy," she smiled back.

"Oh, good. Now, we must get ready; mustn't be late for Church!"

"Yes, Daddy!"

Hiding the letter in the chest of her nightie, Olivia returned upstairs, and went into her bedroom. Remembering that it was raining, she wondered how she could leave the letter outside for Toby to receive, without it getting wet. She could leave it on the eaves beneath her window, and the eaves above it should protect it, she hoped. But what if they didn't? She had to make sure Toby got this letter. Or perhaps she could see about making another visit to 221 Baker Street, and the "delivery" of the letter could be brought about then. Just as this was looking to be the safer option, she heard barking outside her window. Toby was there already! "_What luck,_" she thought as she opened the window and patted him, before slipping the letter in behind his ear. "Now you be careful with the letter, Toby, it's very important Mr. Basil gets it!"

Toby wagged his tail, then he and his master continued on.

Just as he had told Olivia the night before, Fidget was already falling asleep standing up when he and the others returned from Church. Almost as soon as they were inside, he stumbled his way into the hall at the back, and over to the closet. Pulling the door to, he hopped up and positioned himself, upside down, hanging from the rung, stretched his wings and yawned, then blanketed himself in them and closed his eyes.

Normally when Fidget made to sleep, he was out like a light in seconds, but on this occasion a sudden surge of memory made him jolt himself awake. "Oh no! Oh no!" he muttered, jumping down, then stopping to massage his head after banging it - sometimes it seemed like a ritual - "That letter! Livy will be so mad!" Fidget then scampered back into the main room, and beelined for the door. He got to it, then by chance he glanced out the window, and remembered the rain. Toby probably wouldn't be left outside on a day like this. But how would he get the letter from him? Basil! Basil would know a way! Fidget snapped his fingers as this thought occurred to him, smiling with pride and excitement. The detective was nowhere around, so he'd better go check for him. Fidget tried the upstairs first, and indeed, he heard muttering going on in Basil's room, from the sounds of it he was checking over his disguises, for whatever reason. Probably not a good time to disturb him, but when it was to know how to retrieve a letter that could help him, maybe - if he had known, at least - he wouldn't mind. Fidget raised his hand to knock on the door, but froze solid at that same second. _If Basil knew!_ He wasn't supposed to know, that's right! Fidget shuddered at how he'd nearly betrayed Olivia. He _had _to be more careful, he reprimanded himself.

But, if he was going to be careful, that also meant he wasn't going to get the letter Basil didn't even know he needed. Fidget slumped down in defeat and covered his face with his hands, wishing there was a safer, more secret alternative. Then he looked up all of a sudden, and his face brightened. There was! The secret indoor entrance Basil and Dr. Dawson used when going to meet up with Toby when he was indoors! He could get to him that way! Once again Fidget began to feel proud of himself, and once again an oceanic wave came to wash it all away.

Without warning, Basil suddenly opened his door at full force, excited about something. He was in one of his ruffian disguises, so he must be going off to work on some lead in his latest case. However, his interest turned to a different subject once he saw the young bat who was sitting down in front of his doorway, with his back turned to him.

"Ahem, ahem! Is something the matter, Fidget?" Basil asked in a tart manner. This was a delay he could do without, but the bat's presence there at this time and his behaviour did seem a little strange.

Surprised, the bat glanced over his shoulder, then twisted himself around, kneeling. "Aggh! Um, I - I uh, well, I - I c-couldn't find the - I forgot where it was!"

Frowning, the detective inquired, "Forgot where _what_ was?"

"The-th-the - where I sleep! In the c-closet!"

"You forgot where the closet was?" Basil frowned, arms folded and tapping a foot.

Fidget felt his forehead dampening under that gaze. The detective wasn't buying the claim. Why couldn't he have thought of a better excuse than that? Frantic, he thought of every angle he could think of to use.

Basil repeated his question, with about 60% less patience in his voice. As if his guardian angel were told to whisper the advice in his ear, the perfect response suddenly sparked in Fidget's mind.

"N-no! I, I didn't really forget, it's a game!"

"A game?" Basil was now confused. "Do you mean to say you've created a game involving the pretense that you do not remember where you sleep?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Fidget stood upright, now so proud, that he was lucky not to be wearing a buttoned-up jacket. "I, I call it… 'Where do I sleep, again?' Clever, huh?"

Clever was one word to describe it; Basil himself was envisioning a large room whose walls were adorned with clocks, all of which had little Fidgets in place of kuckoo birds, chiming in unison with each other, but clever was easily another valid way of putting it, alright. The whole thing seemed very peculiar, and Basil had the sneaking suspicion Fidget was up to something - hopefully not trying to "help" Mrs. Judson or someone again; they'd had enough of that noise over the week. Most of the time, he would have interrogated the bat further, but he did have to get on with this case, and besides, it was true that Fidget had a habit of letting his mind wander when he wasn't on a job - and ruefully, sometimes when he was - so perhaps the thought of this "game" had just popped up in his mind, and finding it amusing, he'd decided to give it a try. So saying, the detective decided to let it go for now, and get on with his work.

Fidget wiped his forehead with his wing as Basil disappeared down the stairs, then, when he was gone, he too crept down, and made off to the secret passage in the wall, from their flat to the human one up above.

Entering the flat where the human detective Sherlock Holmes and his associate Dr. Watson lived arguably posed more of a threat to Fidget than it did even to Basil and the others. Not that the humans would be too pleased to find mice getting in there, but a bat, being a much more unusual find, would probably disturb them a lot more so. Nevertheless, Fidget had taken much more perilous chances in his life before, and he could be considered an expert at hiding away when the time and opportune cover arrived, so he felt he could make it through this.

As it happened, nobody seemed to be about, so he continued on till he found a chair, and crawled underneath. Poking out from behind the stringed embroidery at the bottom,* he called, "Toby!"

No answer. The dog had to have better hearing than that. "TOBY!" he shouted.

Still no answer. Good grief, he hated having to wait. "TOBY! TOBY! TOBY!" he yelled at the top of his lungs; in fact, if his shouting capacity could be measured on a bar, he had just added three maybe four notches to it. Feeling like his jaw was about to fall off, he sat down behind the leg of the chair and let himself settle down. Where on earth was that bassette hound?

Suddenly he heard the thump of giant steps entering the room. Funny, they sounded heavier and with a shorter consistency than Toby's; had he put on weight all of a sudden or something? Curious, Fidget peeked out again, then shot back under his cover, wishing he hadn't looked. It was the human landlady, Mrs. Hudson. If she found him there - he'd heard about human women - he'd be a dead bat for sure.

He heard her muttering something about it sounding like someone was calling from here - had he really been _that _loud? Well Toby _must_ have heard him then, he simply must have! Unless, oh joy, unless he wasn't in to begin with! The bat was batting a thousand today.

Oh, wait a moment, now suddenly he heard more footsteps entering - was a search party for the caller in the living room forming now? He didn't need all this company; how was he ever supposed to get out of there alive with so many humans about? Then he heard the snuffling sound of a creature sniffing all along the ground, and his palpitating heart relaxed; Toby _had _heard after all! He peeked out and saw the huge face of the dog smiling down at him, then sniffing as if expecting something.

"No Toby, I've got nothing," Fidget said, realizing he should have brought something for the hound. Indeed, Toby's smile turned to a look of quiet disapproval at this fact. "Sorry. But I've got to get that letter for Basil; Livy's counting on us both!"

At that, Toby got back to business. Mrs. Hudson, noticing the dog was paying attention to the base of the chair for some reason, came over and inquired of the dog what was the matter, had a mouse gotten in or something? Quickly Toby opened his mouth and grabbed Fidget before the bat could react, then tried his best to make it look as though his mouth were empty as he turned to shake his head at the landlady (which, considering the unsuspecting Fidget was now struggling to get out, pleading with the dog and promising he'd bring any food he'd like him to bring next time, was not an easy task).

While the landlady remained in the living room, perplexed, the dog carried the bat to the safety of his basket. He then gently spat Fidget out into the soft folds of the blanket inside. Though Fidget was still confused over what had just happened, as he came to realize where he was now, his mind cleared, and he thanked the dog for getting him out of that dangerous room. Toby then nosed part of the blanket in his basket away, revealing the letter. Sighing with relief, Fidget retrieved the letter and pocketed it, before noting, "Now I've gotta get back!"

Toby nodded, then opened his mouth for Fidget to step inside. Fidget did, and then Toby, mouth shut, made back into the living room, and towards the wall where the mouse-sized door from the wall-passage was located. Fidget was less alarmed about this ride the second time around, but he wasn't totally relaxed either; at any moment, were something to go wrong, Toby might end up swallowing him by mistake. Those teeth all around him were no more of a comfort either, even if they did help to keep him safe from human's gaze.

Well, they made it to the little door, safe and sound - which was good, for Fidget had thought, "_One more close call on this job, and I'm gonna start keeping count!_" He bid Toby farewell for the time being, then closed the door behind him and made back to the world of the mice and other similar creatures. Now he still had to go outside and retrieve the shovel from that tunnel, which he had hidden in the bushes outside the building, and leave all of this on the doorstep, ring the bell, and run like what would rhyme with bell. At least the worst was over; he'd been and gotten what he was after, which was one of the most familiar sensations of satisfaction to him; a job well done. Through his new friends he'd soon realized he had a lot more of those under his belt than he believed before - though he'd generally come away from them feeling pretty good about himself, usually Professor Ratigan would find something wrong to nitpick about, which quickly deflated his spirits again. And in hindsight, it probably was never more than nitpicking, anyway. What was it with geniuses, especially evil geniuses, that they always complained about the most trivial of things? It was as if they could not stand to be reminded that mistakes could be made, everything for them had to be 100% or more, and nothing less would do.

Philosophical thoughts aside, Fidget chose to go outdoors via the kitchen entrance when he was back, and snuck around the bend, pulled out the shovel, went over to the front entrance, left letter and shovel on the step, rang, then scurried around the bend again. His clothes were damp from the rain, so he pulled them off and left them laid out on the floor outside his closet, pulled the door to, assumed his sleeping position, and dozed off, utterly exhausted.

When Mrs. Judson heard the doorbell, she went to answer it, unaware that Fidget had been up and about all this time. The sight of a letter to Basil of Baker Street greeting her when the door was open was hardly surprising, it was the shovel which accompanied it that caught her interest. Oh well, she knew it was none of her business, and that Mr. Basil became extremely upset whenever anyone tampered with evidence in his cases, especially before he'd even had a chance to look at it, so she took the letter inside - the shovel seemed very dirty, and she would not bring that into her nice clean home no matter what the detective said. She instead left it neatly perched beside the door, leaning on the wall.

When Fidget awoke at eight, Basil and Dr. Dawson had only recently returned from their investigation. Basil had indeed been most intrigued by his "gift", and apparently was still studying the letter and the shovel. Smiling to himself, Fidget moved away from the door into the living room, where he'd been listening, and went in to help Mrs. Judson.

Dawson, meanwhile, was sitting in the green chair, watching as Basil read the letter for the umpteenth time, and finally asked, "Well Basil, what can you deduce?"

"Hmm?" Basil looked up at Dawson; he'd been very submerged in the letter's contents. The old doctor had waited very patiently this whole time, so he enlightened him, "It seems as though our quartet of thugs from Green Park share a taste for homemade preserves. Do you recall that case about the old woman with the stolen preserves I put aside in my lowest priority list?"

"Um, well-" Dawson recalled something of the sort, but it was a fleeting memory.

"It appears as though I must reassess that case; it has proven to be connected somehow with the Horwood mystery!"

"Basil, do you mean the fiends who robbed Mr. Horwood are also stealing an old woman's stores?"

"I mean that exactly, read this letter, if you please; I want one more look at that shovel."

The doctor put on his spectacles and read the letter in a low tone to himself. "My my," he said when finished, "I wonder who our 'assistant' in this case may be?"

Basil did not look up from his examination of the shovel as he said, "From the way they've written, I believe it was a neighbour of Lottridge. Most likely they are taking understandable precaution by assuming a state of anonymity; this may also explain why the letter was typed and not handwritten. Now, from that letter I was able to determine that the paper was produced in China, and the typewriter used is a Voles and Lidden, assembled by the A. Lemmington and Sons company in New York, United States, most likely in the year 1875.* One can easily tell because due to an error in the manufacturing almost all typewriters produced by the company that year print with an ink slightly grayish in colour, rather than the standard black. Since the writer has neglected to include the date on which the letter was written, and since they mention the time of their observation as being last night, not to mention that the shovel was left strategically beside the letter, it is safe to assume that they wrote the letter sometime between last night and this morning, and that they delivered it personally."

"Astounding!" Dawson said with his eternally enthusiastic enthrallment at the detective's observational skills. "And what of the shovel?"

"Ah yes, doctor! From analyzing this tunnelling instrument, I've determined a few details which may be of use. First off," he held the shovel up to the doctor for him to see, "as you can see here, the handle is heavily caked with mud. If it was used to help dig out a tunnel, depending on its depth, the ground likely became stiffer near its lowest level, and the culprits probably used water to help soften the soil."

"Indeed," Dawson muttered.

"Also, the signature carved into the handle over here reads 'Roger Days'*, which is the company that manufactured it."

"But Basil, how will knowing the company be of use?"

"It will either be a red herring, Dawson, or else it may provide us with a few further clues. First things first, we shall go down to Roger Days tomorrow, and inquire if they've made any recent sales of garden spades to anyone matching the description of our quarries! If that is how they acquired this shovel, the clerks may be able to provide us with more information on them."

"That is absolutely amazing, Basil!"

"Ah, elementary, my dear Dawson!"

Mrs. Judson suddenly entered, beginning to announce that dinner was almost ready, then she exclaimed, "Mr. Basil! Did I not tell you not to bring that filthy thing in here?"

"I apologize, Mrs. Judson, but it is extremely important to my research that I analyze this gardening instrument carefully -"

"Mr. Basil, I'll admit that I've put up with a lot of your nonsense over the years, but I simply will not tolerate having a muddy shovel anywhere near the furniture in this house! Now, unless you are going to clean it thoroughly, you have to take it outside, no buts!"

Basil momentarily looked like a little boy caught sneaking sweets between meals, but he pulled himself together and dismissed Mrs. Judson the way he always did when she scolded him, "Very well, Mrs. Judson, that will be done. Oh, and might I say, the soup you're preparing smells simply enchanting, but I highly doubt any of us would much appreciate it, were it to get burned. Why don't you go back and take care of that, while I take care of the shovel?"

The landlady allowed him to usher her into the kitchen again, but remained firm, "Alright, but remember, Mr. Basil! I do not want to see that shovel indoors again, until it's spotless!"

"Yes, yes, quite," Basil shut the door behind her, then grumbled as he came back and made off outside with the troublesome piece of evidence, "how could she really expect me to clean it off before I examined it? One must never tamper with evidence before learning all they can from it! Women!"

Olivia was sound asleep in her bed that night, when the knocking at the window came. She awoke, but was a little confused at first, and assumed that someone was trying to break in. She got up and ran to her bedroom door, and was about to run into her father's room to alert him, when she glanced over at the window, and saw that it was Fidget.

"Fidget, you scared me!" she frowned as she opened the window to greet him.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he grinned devilishly.

"Did you get the letter?" she asked hopefully.

"Yup, all delivered safe and sound." Fidget avoided relating the events leading up to it, in case their talking woke Hiram. He only meant for this to be a quick stop-by, to assure Olivia that all had gone well.

"Has Mr. Basil gotten it yet?""Uh-huh."

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Your dad. Don't wanna talk too much."

"Oh. I know!" Olivia climbed over the window sill, got down on Toby, beside Fidget, and pulled the window to. "Now you can tell me more about it!"

"But, uh, can you sit in that?" Fidget pointed to her nightie.

Olivia looked down herself. "Um," she began.

"Here," Fidget said, and she looked up and gaped when she saw that he'd removed his sweater. "Use this, Livy."

"But Fidget!" Olivia was aware that it was quite inappropriate for those of one gender to see the other in a half-dressed state, even for girls and boys.

Misunderstanding her apprehension, Fidget dismissed, "Nah, I'll be fine. I can get by with my wings!" He then folded them around his body in a self-embrace and grinned.

Olivia's expression was one of a reluctant "alright then", and she then sat down beside him, on his sweater.

Fidget recounted what he had heard of Basil's deductions, listening to his discussions with Dr. Dawson at dinner - unless there was company over, Fidget ate with everyone else. This could not be done when there was someone else present, because he was not a mouse, and was supposed to be thought of as a servant there, but between the four of them, no one minded.

When he was finished, Olivia said, "I still wish we could have figured out where those men went. That would save Mr. Basil a lot of trouble."

Fidget was quiet, but he stared at the girl intently. Something about the way she'd spoken gave him the feeling that she was thinking. Not in a normal sense, of course, but that she was "getting ideas" about this situation. His suspicions proved correct when she said, "Maybe if we go there again, tonight, we can catch them! I mean, we'll be there when they arrive. Then we could secretly follow them back to wherever they go next!"

"Aw, Livy, are you actually thinking at all? I didn't know the others very well, but I clashed with Chris a number of times; he ain't a nice guy at all! What happens if they find out we're following 'em? Besides, you've got school tomorrow, right?"

"That's true." Olivia's face fell. Then she brightened again. "But Fidget, yesterday and last week, I was up late, knowing I would have to go to Church the next day, and I still was on time for it! I didn't even need for Father to wake me, either time!"

"But school's different, Livy -"

"No it isn't, Fidget. Not really, both are important things you should always be on time for.""But Livy -"

"Fidget, you're just trying to convince me not to go! You're scared again!"

"For Pete's sake, Livy," Fidget stood upright as he spoke, "It's not me I'm worried about, it's you!"

"Fidget! Shhh!" Olivia hissed, pointing to the window.

Fidget knelt down and spoke more quietly, but his expression remained uncharacteristically serious, "Livy, come on. The thought of you getting hurt scares me. Yeah, I'm scared for myself, but I was able to carry the queen on my back not long ago, and she's a tonne to hold! Could you ever do that? So which of us has a better chance in a fight?"

Olivia was the silent one this time. Fidget went on, "You're like my little sister, Livy. I don't wanna see you get hurt. Yeah, there was a time there when I did, but things aren't like that any more." Years from now, things would change between Fidget and Olivia again, and he would begin to see her as something more advanced than a sister-figure, but neither of them knew it yet.

Olivia was more perceptive than most her age would be. Perhaps it was also because, though he was not nearly so good at explaining things to anyone else he knew, Fidget was very direct in what he told her. "I guess you're right, Fidget. I just want to help Basil so badly, and…" she looked up at him, "and I _really _enjoy working on cases with you. I now know why Mr. Basil gets so enthusiastic when he's solving a mystery, and Dr. Dawson seems to like helping him too. And I feel as if we're already involved in this case anyway." That was because they were. If they were not officially involved when she selected the case out of the collection of letters, if they were not when she and Fidget were nearly caught by the bandits the night before, then they most certainly were once she'd written the letter to Basil and he'd delivered it to him.

Both were quiet for a long time. Truth be told, Fidget had deeply enjoyed these past experiences as well. It felt refreshingly good to be actively working on the right side of the law, for the first time in his life. He'd even become acquainted with members of his own kind, when the only bat he'd ever truly interacted with before was his father, and that was only in his first ten years.

In fact, Fidget also wanted to track those fellows down and learn more about their doings, himself, but knowing what they'd be up against if anything went wrong, he understandably wanted to hold back. If anything were to happen to him, Mrs. Judson would probably be upset, and doubtless Olivia would be, but they would eventually carry on. If, however, anything bad became of Olivia, Hiram, Basil, Dawson, Mrs. Judson, Toby, and himself would all be shattered, and most if not all would be shattered beyond repair. If Fidget shuddered at the potential of himself getting killed, the thought of it happening to Olivia sent him reeling.

And yet, the more he looked at the somber mouse-girl sitting on his sweater beside him, and the more he thought of the case, the more his more adventuresome side kicked in. This case was now just as much theirs as it was Basil of Baker Street's. Screw it, Fidget's moment of maturity had faded. As precautious as they ought to be, this had to be done.

"Livy," he said in a suggestive tone, "if we _were_ going to go after them, how would we do it?"

Olivia stared at him hopefully, before thinking it over. "Hmmm… well, we'd want to stay hidden, of course. Actually, we'd probably better not be in Miss Lottridge's yard when they showed up, because it would slow us down in following them."

"How would it do that?"

"We couldn't take Toby in with us, Fidget. So we would have to wait until they left, and then go under the fence and get Toby. More importantly, we couldn't see right away where they went. I've got an idea. We'll go into the yard where the tunnel starts, hide behind one of the trees, and then we can wait and see if they show up. Toby can hide there with us. If they do come, we'll stay hidden till they leave, and then we'll follow them to wherever they go next."

Fidget stared at her, and she continued, "I'm sure we could manage it, Fidget. What do you say?" She held her hand out, and waited patiently.

Fidget's second thoughts began to resurge, but all he asked was, "If I said no, you'd try to go on your own, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I'm in!" he abruptly declared, shaking Olivia's hand so fast that she had to hold it for a few moments afterwards.

When they arrived at their location as planned, Olivia whispered to Toby to hide in the grove of bushes and trees on the side of the yard opposite the stone where they knew the tunnel to begin. Afterwards, they waited for about ten minutes, when suddenly, they heard the voices of several men and the familiar creaking of a wheelbarrow. Peeking out from their hiding spot, the mouse, the bat, and the dog watched as the four adult mice all pushed the stone out of place, then one in a green shirt and darker green trousers took ahold of the wheelbarrow again ("George is the one with the wheelbarrow, Jack's the one dressed like him with a jacket, Jerry's the one in purple, and the guy in blue is Chris," Fidget whispered to Olivia, who nodded in acknowledgement). One by one, the four of them disappeared down the hole, and it was nearly half an hour before they saw them again. During that time, they exchanged a few questions between each other.

"Come to think of it, why did they come back here, anyway? I thought they said there weren't many jars left."

"Well, maybe the wheelbarrow was too small to carry all the ones they hadn't gotten yet, Fidget. When they come back, let's look at how big the wheelbarrow is. Or, maybe they just wanted to make sure they got everything."

"I guess you're right. Either way. Hey, when we follow them back to where they go next, what are we gonna do then?"

"How are we gonna know until we're there, Fidget?" Olivia asked a little impatiently.

Fidget could not answer this, so he shrugged, and the three of them resumed their watch over the hole.

When the preserves-robbers came back, Toby growled in disapproval of their actions, and both Olivia and Fidget had to shush him. They waited until all four disappeared down the sidewalk, then, with the bat and the mouse riding atop him, Toby made off after them. Heading to the other side of the yard, and peeking around the fence, he watched as the mice continued down the street, to the sidewalk on the other side of the road. Ever quietly, and keeping to the shadows as much as possible, he treaded after them. This went on for a while, but as it turned out, after only a few twists and turns, the mice arrived at what apparently was their destination. It was a human house, but although it was clear that there was a mouse residence at the bottom, that was not where the robbers were going. There was a doggie door built into the front door of the human residence, and it was through here that they entered the building. "What do you think they're doing in there?" Olivia whispered. Fidget didn't know any more than she did. She turned and whispered to Toby, "Well, what are we waiting for, Toby? Sic'em!"

Toby sat down instead, whimpering softly. "Toby, what's wrong?"

Toby looked towards the door. Olivia wondered what he meant, until she spied the canine entrance again. Of course. There must be another dog, in that house, and Toby was afraid of encountering it. That was understandable. "Alright Toby, you don't have to go inside. But please wait out here, in case we need to get away in a hurry." She slid down his leg, then hugged his ankle. "We'll be back as soon as possible, Toby! Come on, Fidget!"

"How far are you gonna go with this, doll?" Fidget asked as he joined her on the pavement.

"As far as I have to, Fidget." she said simply as she took his hand and they proceeded up the steps, Fidget lifting her up each one, then pulling himself up after her. He lifted the dog door up, and they each crawled under and in.

The house was very stylishly designed for its time, with blue floral wall paper and various pictures and portraits in beautiful, intricate frames adorning the walls, a wine-coloured carpeting covering the stairs, and a dark, polished wooden chest with a mirror and a few flower pots ontop, a grandfather clock on the wall opposite the stairs, not to mention two elegant but simple chairs with velvet seating matching the carpeting. One glance at the clock made Olivia wince with the realization that it was 11:47 p.m. She didn't have long to think about that, however, for Fidget gently nudged her shoulder and pointed towards the top of the staircase. There, they could see their quartet-quarry rounding the corner, the wheelbarrow still in tow. "How did they get up there?" she asked.

"Livy, why do you keep asking me these things I haven't got a clue about?" Fidget asked, quietly but with noticeable irritation tinging his voice.

"Maybe we have got a clue," Olivia said as she walked over to the staircase. "Look at the bottom of the railing, Fidget! The base on this side of the bars is just wide enough that they could go up to the top easily, one by one of course. And they could take the wheelbarrow. They had not seen the mice get off of the sidewalk outside and up the steps to the front door of the house, but now she reasoned that they must have done the same thing out there.

Joining her, Fidget looked up to the top of the stairs and asked, "But what are they doing? Why did they have to come here?"

"Now who's asking questions the other can't answer?" Olivia joked, smiling to him. Fidget frowned, but it was clear he too was amused by the irony. "Well, I guess since we're here, we'd better go up and see where they've gone now." Fidget helped Olivia up onto the base of the railing - both agreed that now that the concept had been revealed to them, it seemed a nicer way to travel human stairs than the walk, stop, climb, walk motion of climbing the steps themselves. Especially now that they were ascending such a longer staircase! When he joined her on the base, they proceeded up to the second floor of the house.

The furnishings on this floor were similar to the hall furnishings they'd seen below, but they weren't here for a tour, they were here to find those men who had robbed Miss Lottridge of her wares, and Mr. Horwood of his valuables. Sadly, they seemed to have lost all trace of that Toby were there to sniff them out, which both had forgotten till now that he could, they were about to give up and go back home - at least they would have more information to provide Basil with in secret - when Olivia stopped, and grabbed Fidget's shoulder to stay him. "Fidget, look!" she hissed in excitement, pointing to a door by the corner of the hall, to the left of the stairs, or their current right. There, at the bottom of the door, was the wheelbarrow, and as they cautiously came nearer, they saw that it had been emptied of its cargo. Fidget smoothly lay down on the floor and peered under the door, into the room.

It appeared to be a young boy's room, based on the bed and the furniture around it. As for the whereabouts of Chris and the others, the first clue the bat observed was four or five glass objects which looked like jars, at the bottom of the night table beside the bed. Then he glanced under the bed and saw the four mice standing around an enormous glass jar resembling the mouse-sized ones. "Wait here," Fidget said, "I'll go in." He then scrambled under the door, and snuck over to the dresser across from the bed. Hiding under there, he watched as Jerry came out from under the bed, retrieved the rest of the jars, and carried them back inside. Fidget then noticed that he and the others were opening the jars and painstakingly emptying their contents into the larger one. He heard them talking in low tones, but couldn't distinguish the words. They then lifted a huge disk that must be the lid of the jar ontop of it, and all together fastened it tight, then made to push the jar out from under the bed. All were turned away from him, so he chanced approaching the bed, and hopping up onto the edge of the blanket above and suspending himself upside down.

From here, he could better make out what they were saying.

"Well, that's the last of 'em, Chris. Where are we gonna go when we need to fill'er up again?"

"Easy. There's another old lady who makes homemade preserves about three blocks west from here. That's where we strike next!"

"Won't Johnny be pleased when he wakes up!" George said gleefully.

Fidget guessed correctly that Johnny was the human boy asleep in this bed.

"How much longer do we have to do this for? I've said it before and I'll say it again, this ain't my way of earning keep."

"Quit whining, Jerry," Chris admonished, "this ain't any worse than working under Professor Ratigan, in fact it's much better. All we gotta do is remain here acting like the boy's pets and getting sauces and jams for him like this in return for his hospitality, till we've saved up five thousand pounds! Then we'll move on and have it made!"

"Yeah, but these nightly trips are exhausting, Chris. Plus, don't you feel humiliated being treated like a common animal?"

"Listen, that's all humans see any other creatures as! And it's not so bad. We're given food, shelter, free space to roam and do as we please, and there are countless places to store our loot, like what we got from that rich guy in the park, yesterday! Plus, this family ain't got no mangy cat around, so we're completely safe!"

"Eh, I don't know if I'd trust that dog, he's kinda toothy," George said meekly. Out of the four of them, Fidget remembered him as being the quietest and nicest.

"Well, I dunno 'bout the rest of you, but I'm gonna turn in," came Jack's voice. The others yawned and agreed.

Fidget had been entirely engrossed in gathering and memorizing information from this conversation he was eavesdropping on, but the second he realized that they meant to leave the underneath of the bed in the direction he was in, he quickly scrambled up the side of the bed, crawling underneath the blanket in hopes that it would conceal him from their view.

It almost did, but he forgot to stay still once covered, and continued to climb up the side of the bed. As Chris and his posse were making their way over to the cage where Johnny kept them (through a faulty bar on one side, Jack had managed to forge an easy come-and-go entrance for them to go in and out by, when Johnny had first taken them in as pets) George happened to turn around, and he noticed a strange lump moving up the side of the bed, under the covers. "Hey Chris, what's that?" he pointed in the direction of the object.

"One too many swigs of wine from the cellar, if you ask me," Chris growled; George was always seeing things. However, he said that before he followed the younger mouse's finger and saw what he saw. "Hey, wait a minute! That's an intruder! Guys, someone's trying to hoard in on our turf!"

"Well, we gotta stop 'em!" Jack cried, drawing his pistol from in his jacket.

"_Oh, this can't be good!_" was what went in Fidget's mind when he heard their voices, and crawled faster, finally climbing over the edge of the bed. There was a bed sheet underneath, so it was a moment before he noticed he was running up onto the body of the sleeping boy. However, when the "bed" beneath him started moving, he realized his mistake, and stopped running altogether.

Johnny sat up, groaning sleepily, awakened by the feeling that something small was crawling on him. Assuming one of his mice had snuck out again, the fourteen-year-old boy pulled back his blankets, calling them out by the names he'd given them.

Fortunately, he'd pulled back the sheet as well, so Fidget remained safely out of sight. At the same time, Chris, Jack, Jerry and George all arrived over the edge of the bed, on top of the blankets, only to find their "master" awake.

"So there you guys are," Johnny said as he picked them up. "And what are you doing out of your cage?" he asked as he carried them back to the little cage on the floor, opened the door, popped them back inside and locked the door shut. "You know Mother won't like it if she catches you out of there. I'd better put you up here." So saying, he placed the cage on top of his dresser.

Fidget was unaware of these goings-on, and continued to panick as he reached the edge of the side of the bed, and slid out from the sheets, unsuccessfully grappling at them and dropping down to the floor with a thump. "Ow!" he muttered briefly before picking himself up and running under the bed, out the other side, and under the door again. By sheer luck, neither the mice atop the boy's dresser nor the human boy himself saw him.

Olivia waited for him on the other side of the door, all this time, but seeing the look of fright on his face she did not stop him with questions, but instead accepted the hand he reached out for her, and they dashed back towards the staircase. They had to stop and change course, however, when they saw the huge German Shepherd with the mean set to the jaw, who was coming up. He'd stayed in tonight, instead of sleeping in his dog house, because although it had stopped raining, the clouds looming overhead that night threatened a reprise of the earlier downpour.

Almost crying with desperation, the bat and the mouse turned around and ran under a door in the wall in front of the stairs, when you came up them. On the other side of the door, they stopped to catch their breaths, but their moment of recovery was shortlived, as the dog, who had noticed them and not recognized them as the mice his youngest master kept, came sniffing and growling at the other side of the door. Trembling, they backed away, hugging each other in terror and hoping the angry dog would eventually relent and go away. To their further fright and dismay, however, he started barking.

"Henry, wake up! Robbers!" the woman sleeping in the bed exclaimed groggily as she pulled herself upright.

Henry was still tired, of course, but he could not ignore his dog's barking or his wife's exclaimation. "Oh no!" Olivia gasped as she saw the adult human get up out of his bed, grab a wooden stick from beside it, tell his wife, "Stay here, darling," and then make for the door.

As they ran to a chair to hide underneath, Olivia panicked, "Oh Fidget, if he opens that door, the dog will come in and find us! What are we going to do?"

As if echoing her, Fidget was muttering to himself, "What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?" Pulling his ears down over his face, he fought hard to get his thoughts straight. However, he was given no further time as the door opened and the dog pushed past his master, heading straight over to the bed and snarling loudly, as he tried to flush the intruders out.

"What is it, Rufus?" Henry was now certain it was not robbers, at least in the strict human sense, that Rufus had been alerted of. "Is it a rat?"

Watching her husband go over to the chair his dog half-lay down beside, trying to reach under, his wife got out of bed and joined him. "Henry, perhaps it's Johnny's mice. I've told him before not to let them out, but he never listens."

"Well Beth, we'll have to discuss things with him after-"

"There is nothing to discuss. I told him if he lets them out of that cage one more time we'll have to get rid of them, and this is the last straw!"

"Beth," Henry said impatiently, "before we do anything with them, what do you say we get them out from under the chair?"

"H-he-he's - th-their gonna kill us!" Fidget stammered.

"Fidget, we can't stay here. Weren't you ever this close to getting caught by someone before? What did you do then?"

Fidget licked his dry lips, then looked around as if expecting the answer to appear before him. It was at this moment that the chair began to raise up on the side opposite them, and Fidget instinctively grabbed Olivia's hand and dragged her out with him. They were taking a blind shot, but they ran in the shadow of the chair, and upon seeing a mouse-door in the wall, ran over to it, pulled it open, and hastened inside, shutting the door behind them.

Finally safe, they remained in there, letting their minds and bodies settle after their ordeal and narrow escape. It was then that they looked around, and noticed that instead of having a corridor running through the walls, as was customary for mice living in human homes, in case of emergencies, this place had three walls and the door. It was a closet.

"Oh, great!" Fidget snapped, "now we either gotta stay in here for the rest of our lives, or we gotta go back there if we're gonna get out! This was such a great idea, Livy!"

For once, Olivia didn't argue with him. This was all her fault. All she had wanted to do was help Basil - well, and see if she and Fidget could solve the case - but she had just gotten too ambitious. And unchecked ambition always lead to one's downfall, there were no exceptions. And now, she had not a blessed idea how they were going to get out of this mess. No matter how it went, it could not end well. Try to head back out there, and they would doubtlessly be caught, either by the couple or by their dog. They could wait in here, but how long would it be before Basil or anyone figured out where the criminals they'd pursued were, and would they even find them then? And if they did, suppose it took days, or even weeks? With no food or water, they'd be dead by then. And how about her father, or Mrs. Judson and her tenants, or Olivia's school? Everyone would be worried sick about them. As she thought about it, tears of stress, fear and regret filled her eyes, until she could not contain them any longer, and she began crying softly.

She had her face buried in her knees, so she did not notice Fidget wrapping a wing around her at first.

"Cheer up, Livy. We'll get out of here."

"How, Fidget? How are we going to get out without those people or that mean dog finding us?"

"Um, I don't know. I just thought you'd feel better if I said that."

Olivia growled. She was not in the mood for games, she was too busy feeling upset.

Then again, feeling sorry for oneself never helped in anything, did it? Perhaps Fidget had a point, until they could think more clearly about their situation, they ought to take their minds off it. Good grief, she almost suffered a melt-down like the one Basil had suffered when Ratigan had seemingly defeated him on June 19th! Fortunately, just as Basil had Dr. Dawson, Olivia had Fidget to help her regain her senses.

Choosing to focus her mind on their past experiences, she recalled another incident this part of their current adventure reminded her of. "Fidget, doesn't this remind you of when we became friends?"

"How so?"

"When you kidnapped me again in Scotland so Ratigan could use me for blackmail, but you ended up in that locked-up room I was left in, too. It was a lot like this."

/

Olivia sat in the corner of the small, dark room, exhausted from yelling and banging on the walls in vain hope that someone merciful would come and release her. She was scared, sad, and angry. Scared because she was in the hands of the nefarious criminal genius who had used her father to try and annihilate the queen almost a month ago, the evil sewer rat she, her father, and most of Britain thought had died from falling off of Big Ben that same night. Well, apparently he'd survived by using his cape or his jacket as a parachute, and had returned to his ambitious reign over the criminal world of Mousedom as soon as he could. Now he was in Scotland with most of his men, and upon finding out that Basil and Dr. Dawson had gotten onto his trail, and that they were in association with the Flavershams again in the meantime, he had had that despicable bat who worked for him capture her as a means of disarming Basil's efforts to stop him. She was sad, because once again, she was separated from her father, and all who cared for her, including her godparents whom they were visiting and the detective and the good doctor. And she was angry because the nasty old rat had survived, and for whatever reason, it seemed he just couldn't leave them alone. What right did such a man have to barge into their peaceful lives and muck things up for them? _What _right?

All of a sudden, she heard angry voices yelling outside. Gathering up her hopes, she listened at the door, but all she heard was that stupid bat shouting "You'll never catch me, jerks!" He then fumbled with the handle, banged the door open as she only got away just in time, then shut the door behind him, laughing. "Hahaha! They actually thought I was gonna pay up to them! Nice try! Hahaha!" Then he turned around and saw Olivia sitting on the other side of the room, glowering at him. Gasping, he turned back to the door, "Oh no! If she's in here, oh no! That means I'm locked in! Can't get out! Help! HELP! Someone open the door!" Fidget banged on the door with his fists.

Wondering why Fidget came in here if he was going to lock himself in, she nonetheless hoped that the others he was running from, whoever they were, would open the door and let him out. Then she might be able to escape along the way.

Fidget stopped banging momentarily when he heard the voices of his pursuers outside. "Aw, look at that! The little idiot locked himself in!"

"Yeah, now he can die with that brat, and we'll be rid of 'im!"

After that, their voices became fainter, as if they were walking away.

"No, no, no! I've gotta get outta here!" Fidget searched around him for some way out. Olivia stayed in her spot, watching as the bat darted to and fro, feeling the walls for some sort of fault, or maybe a secret exit, that he could use to free himself with, muttering to himself all the while. Once, he turned and looked back at her, saying, "You know, you could _help _me try to get out!"

It was plain outrageous on so many levels, the way he said it. It was he who had put her in here in the first place, and now that he had been stupid enough to trap himself in here, he was asking her for help! Besides, how did he know she hadn't tried the walls like he was doing? She hadn't thought of that, exactly, but still! "You want _me_ to help _you_? It's because of you and your evil boss that I'm here!"

"Don'tcha wanna get out?" Fidget now suddenly had a smug look on his face, as if he felt he'd gotten her trapped in a verbal manner.

"Well of course! But I don't want to help you get out!"

Fidget's smirk faded. "Well would you rather stay in here forever, yourself?"

"NO!" Olivia snapped, then stopped. Why get angry? That wouldn't solve anything, she was told, by her father, by her etiquette teacher, even by Basil of Baker Street. "Besides," she said, keeping her cool, "Basil of Baker Street will find out where I am. Then he and Daddy and Dr. Dawson will come and rescue me!"

"Don't count on it."

"Of course I will! Mr. Basil is the smartest mouse in the world! He can figure out where Professor Ratigan's hiding no matter where he goes!"

"Wanna bet?" Fidget was just toying with her, he didn't really know whether Basil would find them or when.

"I don't gamble. I'm eight," was all Olivia said, adding, "and ladies aren't supposed to, anyway."

For a dumb girl, it was proving difficult to wear her down. Well, until he either was let out, or found his way out of that dingy room, he needed to pass the time somehow. Teasing her seemed like a good idea, but now all he could think to say was, "Well, I'm seventeen and I do gamble! And it don't matter if a guy does or not!"

Fidget looked proud of his comeback, but Olivia just gawked at him, asking, "You're _seventeen_?" She knew he was a lot older than her though still not quite a man, but she would never have thought he was nearly out of his teens.

The image of pride turned to the image of guardedness on the bat's face as he said, "_Yes,_ I'm _seventeen_! What's it to you?"

"You, you just look younger, that's all." Olivia had been standing, but she sat down again. It was lonely in here, to be sure, but even so, she was not so sure she wanted to make conversation with the room's sole other occupant, knowing who it was.

Minutes passed, and Olivia began to grow sick. Not in the physical sense, but nevertheless she felt sick. Sick of this room. Sick of these people. Sick of sitting. Sick of sulking over the circumstances. Sick of sick.

The thought then occurred to her. Since she had realized after her first encounter with Basil and Dr. Dawson, not to mention their enemies, that she needed to improve on her ability to think things out and interpret information around her, she had been practicing almost non-stop. Now was the perfect time to put her abilities to use! Except try as she might, she could not think of anything that would help her get out of here. But maybe escape wasn't the only way out. Perhaps she ought to learn more about what she was doing here in the first place.

"Why exactly am I here?" She turned to Fidget and asked.

Because there was nothing for him to hang upside down by, the bat had chosen to curl up on the floor, and was beginning to doze off. Annoyed, he looked up at her and replied, "What?"

"What does Ratigan want me in here for? How long am I going to be here?"

"Beats me. He never tells me anything unless he wants me to do something, or he wants to talk about how brilliant he is."

Well, that didn't help her much. But he had more to say, all of a sudden. "Those guys left me in here, saying now I'll die with you."

"_Die? Are we going to be left in here till we starve to death?_" "Aren't you scared?"

"No, it's the best news I ever got." Fidget sat up and rolled his eyes, "of course I'm scared! But I'm too tired to do anything about it." He then lay down the other way, turned his back to her, and snuggled up as best as he could.

Olivia felt an indescribable sense of incompleteness, like she should keep talking, but she didn't know why, nor what to say. So she just remained standing there.

Fidget, meanwhile, was trying his best to sleep and regain his strength, but he had a nagging feeling that he was being watched. Guessing it must be the girl (unless there were ethereal beings in there with them, and he didn't believe in those), he turned around and said, "What?"

Olivia took a stab at conversation. "Why did you lock yourself in here, anyway?"

"Because I forgot that stupid door can't open on the inside!"

"I mean, why did you come in here in the first place?""I lost at poker and I didn't want to pay up."

At each answer, he was hoping that would be the end of it, but she continued asking any questions she could. "If you aren't going to pay when you lose, why would you play the game?"

Again, Fidget sat up and faced her, looking at her like she was touched in the head. "Why do I play poker, you mean? Why? Because I - because… because I…" He fumbled with his thoughts, but he couldn't think of a satisfactory answer. How could you tell someone why you liked to play a card game? It would be like trying to explain why you needed to breathe air. "I just do, alright? Happy now?"

Olivia flinched at his harshness. "I'm sorry," she said, then her face went blank. Did she just apologize to her captor? Yes, she did. If anything, he should be the sorry one! The bat looked just as surprised by what she said. Frowning, she voiced her opinions, "But you're the one who should be sorry! You've kidnapped me now one, two…" she counted with her fingers, "THREE times!"

"Pretty good, huh?"

"NO IT'S NOT!" she raged, and Fidget was the one to flinch this time. It was comical that a teenaged boy would be afraid of a girl who hadn't entered her double-digits yet, but he was now huddled up in his wings so only his ears could be seen, and he was shaking. Olivia had been going to list all the reasons she had to be angry at the bat, but seeing him like that checked her. "Why would you be proud of kidnapping someone?"

He peeked out at her. "Why not? If I have to do it, and if I do it, why not feel proud?"

"Because it's wrong! Can't you see that it's wrong to just grab someone, sack them or rope them or whatever, and take them away?"

"Yeah, I know it's wrong. But if the boss wants me to do it, I ain't got a choice. And if I do it right, I feel pretty good about it!"

Olivia was left speechless. Fidget came out of hiding and stood up. "Look here, girl! Do you think I chose this life? The moment the boss fed my Papa to his cat, he snapped me up just like that!" He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "I wanted to get away, but no, he wouldn't let me! Papa had been a good worker, but he couldn't take his back talking! I was just a little brat to him, and I had no one to protect me, so I was fair game! And if I didn't go along, I'd join Papa in the cat!"

"Your father also worked for Ratigan?"

Quietly, and looking like he was about to cry, Fidget replied, "Did for him exactly what I do. He had nowhere else to go, and he had to support me somehow." Olivia was listening, so Fidget went into detail. "Mum died giving birth to me. Papa lost his job after being wrongly accused of theft. He couldn't look to anyone for help; Mum was a Spanish gypsy and her family hated Papa. Papa's Papa was a deadbeat, and Papa couldn't find a job anymore. He wouldn't give me up, but where was he gonna go? Then the boss showed up, and offered him a job. Everyone already thought Papa was a thief, so why not?"

"So you lived under Ratigan your whole life?"

Fidget nodded. "Wasn't too bad, actually. There was lots of space to play, and nobody really bothered with me. Well, Papa usually asked Bill the Lizard and his friends to look after me if he had to be away in the daytime, coz they were nicer than most. Papa always spent as much time with me as he could. He said I was all he had left."

Olivia could feel her heart melt at this story. "How old were you when he…"

"Ten." Fidget said simply, then without warning he broke down and cried, leaping up and grabbing her in a fierce embrace. It was the sort given by one looking for comfort, and although she was still angry at him for what he'd done to her and _her_ father, she found herself holding him in return. Olivia had always been a compassionate little girl.

At last, the crying boy pulled himself off of her, and steadied his tears. "I, I w-woke up that n-night. I-I was, I was alone. Papa, he usually held me while we slept, c-coz he didn't trust too m-many of the others." "_How adorable,_" Olivia genuinely thought. "I went looking for something to do, coz I guessed he was off on an errand or something. Then R-Ratigan appeared, and he told me what he'd done. And the way he said it! He played with me; he asked me to guess where Papa was. Then when I guessed, he told me Papa had fed Felicia. I thought that was strange, Ratigan normally won't let anyone do that except him. _Then_ he tells me Papa didn't _exactly _feed her, no, he was FEDto her!" Fidget was yelling now. "No more smart mouthing from him, he says! He's so happy about it! Then he mocks me with the news! I'm stunned! I can't believe it! Papa's dead!" Olivia watched, alarmed, as Fidget pranced around the room, hands clasped to his head, throwing a fit. "Papa's dead! MY Papa! All the family I got! I don't know what to do! So I run! I run to the grate, I run through the pipes! I run to the Rat Trap - Ratigan owns the place. I go to the bartender and his wife - Papa also would get them to look after me if the others couldn't. Even they are shocked! I want to hide, I don't want the rat to find me! What if he kills me next! What can I do now? Where am I to go? Papa's DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD!" Exhausted, Fidget collapsed to the ground in a sobbing heap.

Olivia went over to Fidget and knelt beside him. As angry as she still was, she could feel herself reaching out to him within. "That was horrible, what Ratigan did to you, Fidget," she sympathized. The bat did not stop crying. She decided to try and change the subject. "Did your father name you?"

It worked. Fidget stopped crying and lifted his head out of his wings, looking up at her. Sniffling, he got up and replied, "Yeah. He and Mum couldn't think of a name for me, so after I was born and she died, and it was up to him, he named me the first thing he thought of. I was always fidgetting about, he said, so that's what he called me."

Olivia giggled. It was not unusual, apparently bats often chose strange names for their children, a cultural trait they shared with lizards and amphibians.

Seeing that he was beginning to cheer up, Olivia ventured to ask, in need to understand now that they'd begun to bond, "If you know what it's like to lose your father, why were you so uncaring when you kidnapped mine?"

"Was I?" Fidget cocked an eyebrow. "The way I remember it, you were nowhere around, so how could I apologize?" Not that he would have, even if he had seen her, one couldn't say "Good afternoon, little girl, my boss needs your father to do something for him, so I'll just be taking him now. Thanks!"

"And anyway, Ratigan didn't want to kill your dad. He just wanted him to make that robot, then he was gonna let him go. Doesn't sound all that bad, does it?"

"Well, nobody told me!" Olivia replied.

"And you weren't all that nice to me either," Fidget motioned towards her with his hand, "you stomped on my foot, you said I was ugly, you think I'm gonna want to assure you then?"

Olivia started to laugh. Stomping on someone's foot and insulting them hardly compares to taking someone's father, then them, stuffing them in a bottle, taking their clothes and masquerading as them, later kidnapping them again, and then suggesting that they be thrown in the Thames! How could Fidget, after doing all that to her, plus kidnapping her again now, and locking her in this small, dark room, seriously feel like the victim between them?

"What - what's so funny?" Fidget asked, puzzled.

"You, hahaha, you're completely silly!" Olivia burst into giggles and sat down. Fidget's hands were on his hips as he frowned at the girl laughing at him, but, although he did not understand why, her merriment caught on, and soon they were both laughing wholeheartedly. There was still much confusion between them, but in that moment, after sharing what they had shared, they decided there was just too much to work on, and chose to let it go for now. When they calmed down, Olivia told Fidget her first name, and said he could call her "Livy" as her friends did, and Fidget jokingly said she'd better not call him "Peggy" in reference to his wooden leg; he hated that nickname. In that moment, a friendship was formed.* When Basil and Dawson, accompanied by a fretting Hiram Flaversham, finally came to the rescue of Olivia, and located where she was confined, they found a little girl mouse and a young lad bat huddled together in the corner, the bat with his wing around the mouse and the mouse resting her head on his shoulder, both fast asleep.

/

Back in the present, Olivia finally said, "Fidget, I don't care what the dangers are. We can't stay in here, I've got to get to school, and we've got to let Basil know what we know. What were you able to find out in Johnny's room, anyway?"

"Chris and the others are acting like pets to the kid. They steal jams and sauces for him as a 'thank you', and they plan on staying here until they get, um, several thousand pounds at any rate. And they're getting all that by stealing from folks, like they did to that Horwood fellow. When they get the money, they're gonna go away somewhere."

"Fidget, do you know what you've done! You've solved it! Now all we have to do is write another letter to Mr. Basil, explaining all of this to him, and he can have them arrested!"

"I didn't solve it, Livy, _we_ solved it," Fidget said firmly. "And wait, won't Basil need proof or something?"

"Well, what proof can we give him other than the letter?"

"I don't know. But how can we even get out of here without that dog or those humans catching us?"

"Maybe we can, maybe we can't. But whatever happens, we've got to try!" Olivia punched her hand with her other, wearing a look of determination. "We'll go out on the count of three, one, two, THREE!"

Holding hands, they pushed the door open and snuck out. Everything was still in the room, and the dog apparently had been shooed out. Quietly, they crept to the door and slithered underneath… and came face to face with Rufus. "OH NO!" they both cried as they ran away from the snarling German Shepherd. They were running in the direction of Johnny's room, and they spied the wheelbarrow. "Aha!" Fidget said, "Livy, climb aboard!" Olivia did as told, and Fidget began wheeling her towards the stairs. At that moment, Henry, Beth, Johnny, and three more of their children all awoke and came into the hall, to find out what the commotion was about.

"What is going on here? And what the blazes is that?" Henry pointed to the bat wheeling the juvenile mouse away, down the base of the stair rail. "A bat? With a… with a mouse?"

"Alright Johnny, that does it!" Beth could be heard saying. "No more keeping mice in this house if you're going to let them run about loose like this! And we never said it was alright to keep a bat!"

"I don't have a bat, Mother!" Johnny protested. "Although wouldn't it be great if I did! Hey, come back!" they could hear him coming down the steps after them. Rufus, unfortunately, had beaten him to it, and once on the main floor, they only got outside in the nick of time before he could nab them. An alarmed Toby was waiting for them, and he picked them up in his mouth, wheelbarrow and all, and made off, just as Rufus ran out after them. Though the enraged dog pursued them for about three blocks, they got away. To say they were shaken by that close-shave was the very least of it, but together they kept their resolve. When they got back to the Flaversham residence, Olivia told Fidget she was going to write up what they had learned just as she had done the night before. Then Fidget could drop by her school, and she would slip it to him through the window when she got the chance. Also, he and Toby had better take the wheelbarrow home, in case it proved useful as evidence. Fidget agreed, and they parted ways for the night.

Everything after that went smoothly. When Basil received the letter and the wheelbarrow, he and Dawson went to the police, then with Toby they tracked down the location of the bandits. They were actually just leaving, themselves, as Beth refused to let them stay there any longer. Confessions and arrests were made, Mr. Horwood and the other mugging victim's valuables were returned, Miss Lottridge's wares were compensated for, and all was settled. The double-case was closed, but still, Basil and Dawson wondered who the courageous "neighbour" who risked their lives to help Miss Lottridge was, and Basil resolved to find out. But that was another story…

**AN:**

**Phew! Finally this chapter's done! This was the hardest one for me to think up yet! But it was also the most fun, and at least the mystery's been solved. We've even gotten a little insight on what happened between the events surrounding Queen Mousetoria's Diamond Jubilee and Olivia and Fidget's first case. Hopefully I'll be able to think up what happens next time a lot sooner, but for now, to explain the details behind those places I marked with an asterisk:**

**1. Yes, the chair Fidget was hiding under while calling for Toby is the same one Olivia hid under when she and Toby first met. Fidget seems quiet adept at hiding, so he probably guessed immediately that it was the best choice of cover.**

**2. The "Voles and Lidden" typewriter is a play on the "Sholes and Glidden" typewriter which was produced by the New York-based E. Remmington and Sons company (parodied here by A. Lemmington and Sons). Research was done in Wikipedia. Just so you know, that error in manufacturing I described as happening in 1875 was meant to only refer to the mouse-world company; I did not intentionally reference any actual incident in the human version!**

**3. "Roger Days" is supposed to be a mouse-version of the real-life hardware franchise "Robert Dyas", which began in London during the late 1800s (I researched hardwares stores in the United Kingdom on Wikipedia, to find one that would work). I chose this name because "Roger" sounds similar to "Robert", and "Days" is "Dyas" transposed. No reference to the BBC presenter Roger Day, who also has a Wikipedia article, was intended!**

**4. It's funny how often it is that some of the strongest friendships started out as enemy-ships.**


	4. Aw rats, the dog is gone

**I must express my deepest apologies for not updating this story in 51 weeks. For a short while after I got the third chapter done and dusted, I had a pretty clear image of where I wanted to take this instalment in the series, but as I wrote on things began to get more complicated than I****'****d originally planned, and I got a ****"****specific****"**** writer****'****s block. This lasted for months, until I finally shook myself and determined not to keep my dedicated fans waiting any longer. Sadly, Fate and time management had other ideas, and with my hectic daily schedules I rarely got any time to work on the chapter. I finally finished it up just today, and am posting it at long last. I only hope the devoted readers of this fic can forgive me for being left dangling so long, and will continue to read this story as I struggle to update it as often as I can.**

**No more waiting now; behold Olivia and Fidget****'****s third case!**

Fidget remained by the window, waiting for Olivia. He had not seen her since Monday morning, when he'd gotten from her the letter that brought the Horwood-Lottridge case to a satisfactory close, so he did not know whether she'd heard about the results or not. He'd been anticipating a little celebratory chat with her about it all week.

As a matter of fact, they weren't the only ones who knew about their involvement in the case. On Thursday evening, he was babysitting little Boris, and to entertain the child he had told him all about it - though he might have hammed the more heroic parts of his hand in the events up a bit. The little boy had been absolutely enthralled by the story; he already admired Fidget a great deal as it was.

It was as he had been staring up at the teen like he was some sort of deity, that Mrs. Judson had come into the room, having been awakened by Fidget's dramatic storytelling. She had been naturally curious about the little one left in Fidget's care, and Fidget had explained to her that he was a friend whose mother had asked him to look after him for the evening.

Mrs. Judson loved children, and immediately took a shine to the cheerful little boy. Boris liked her too, and upon their nominal introduction, he proudly stated that he was named for a friend of his departed grandfather's, who was "always in a hurry" - though neither Fidget nor Judson could guess that he'd misinterpreted the word "Russian" as "rushing".

Boris almost went public with Fidget's story when he said, "Uncle Fidget was telling me about how he and Miss Olivia -" Boris called him "Uncle Fidget" because he typically called adults (or those in their late teens) he was acquainted with "Uncle" or "Auntie". He made an exception with mice, however, because for non-mouse species it was generally a custom to refer to mice men and women as "Mr.", "Mrs." or "Miss" at any given time.

Fidget, realizing what Boris was innocently going to do, stepped in and said, "Um, yes, I-I was t-telling him about, um, Rapunzel!"

Confused, Boris turned to him and asked, "Rapunzel?"

Mrs. Judson was just as surprised as Boris. "Rapunzel" didn't seem like the sort of story Fidget would tell, nor did it seem like the sort that a boy Boris's age would be interested in.

"Yeah, yeah! But not the usual way it's done, no! This one's way better!"

Curious, Boris curled up on the rug again, giving his sitter his full attention.

"Well now, uh, let's see. In the first place, Rapunzel this time won't be a peasant - she'll be a princess! And that prince guy she falls in love with? Oh, he's no prince! No, he's a thief!"

"Like you used to be?"

"Um," Fidget thought about it. He had in mind a thief much more independent that the kind he was when he worked for Ratigan, but similarities could be drawn, he guessed. "Yeah! Just like me!" Fidget drew himself up straight and spread his wings out. Now Boris was really interested. Mrs. Judson was interested too, but her maternal instincts made her decide that there were more important things to do than listen to stories.

"Well, this certainly sounds intriguing, but, if you both will wait here, I'll just go in and make some cheese and raisin scones!"

"Oh, uh, well, I don't wanna keep you up," Fidget began, but she whispered to him, "Not at all. It is important when keeping a guest - especially a little child - to have plenty of good food available. I'll have them ready in an hour!" She then hustled into the kitchen and was gone.

"Tell me more!" Boris said excitedly.

"Oh, uh, well where were we now? Oh, yeah! So there's this flower, no, a drop of sunlight! So this drop of sunlight falls into the earth, by a cliff or something like that, and that's where that flower comes from! And this flower's magic! If you sing to it, you can heal any illness or any problem you got! And then there's this old woman who finds it - she's an old bat, her name's Mother Gothel. Well, she's really old, you know, gray hair, wrinkles, all bony all over, that kind of thing? Well she finds this flower while flying, and she's intrigued by its glow - it glows, by the way. Well she sings to it; this flower has a special song that must be sung if it's gonna work, and the words just come to her. When she's finished, she's just like she was at twenty-five!"*

"Is she pretty?"

"She's gorgeous! She's about the height of mice -"

"How'd she get so tall?"

"Um, she's a different kind of bat than we are. And she's got white fur, and grayish eyes, and red lips, and she's really curvy -"

"Curvy?""Haven't you ever noticed how women's bodies go 'in-out, in-out'?" Fidget demonstrated an hourglass-shaped figure.

"Oh, okay!"

"Well, she's got lots of curly black hair, and she wears at this time a blue dress with a red cloak. Did I mention she's in the middle of the middle ages? Well, she's thrilled about this flower, but she doesn't want anyone else to use it."

"Why not?"

"I dunno. I guess she just doesn't want anyone mistreating it. Or taking it from her. Well, every night or so, for the next four hundred years, she flies back to the flower, which she keeps covered up, and stays young and pretty. Meanwhile, there's a kingdom which forms on an island nearby, and after those four hundred years, there's a handsome mouse king and a beautiful queen, and they're gonna have a kid. The queen gets sick, and everyone wants to find a cure for her. The mice have heard rumours about this flower, but no one's ever been able to find it. Well, they've gotta try, so they all set out that night, searching for it. Gothel's just sung to it, when she hears voices coming. She covers it, and runs up the side of the hill nearby, but she knocked the cover over by mistake. They find the flower and take it away, boy is she mad!"

"What does she do?"

"Well, the flower's made into a broth for the queen, and she gets better. The powers from the flower don't die, but now they're in the baby's hair. She's a cute little thing, with green eyes, light tan fur, and beautiful golden hair. Most of the mice in the kingdom have brown hair, so this seems interesting, but nobody guesses."

"Her hair's gold because of the flower?""Yup. Anyway, So the king and queen are really happy, and so's everyone else, but Gothel still needs that flower - now she's getting ugly and old again. She flies up to the tower - these days she wears a red dress and a dark cloak, same sort of style people wore when she really was young - and she sings to the Princess Rapunzel's hair. She starts to go young again, but when she goes to cut off some of that hair for herself, it goes brown like the king and queen's, and I guess it doesn't work anymore, coz she goes old again."

"But how's she going to live?"

"Ah, well! She's in a panic, so she grabs the baby and makes off with her, ignoring the now awake king and queen's cries. She flutters to the ground - to throw people off, she's running instead of flying, and she manages to get to the shore. Well, here she's gotta fly, so she does. Nobody catches her, and she's safe across from the island. Now, she lives in a tower deep in the woods, so she takes the baby back there with her."

"What does she do then?"

"Well, she raises Rapunzel like she was her own."

"A bat pretending a mouse is her daughter?"

"Mixed marriage, she tells her. And her father's dead. She doesn't want Rapunzel ever leaving, in case she loses her lifeline again, so she tells her that it's way too dangerous for her to go outside; people will try to take her hair and use it for themselves. She also makes a point to warn her 'daughter' never to let her hair get cut."

Fidget went on to explain to Boris that Rapunzel grows up well; Gothel does her best to take care of her and make her comfortable in the tower, but Rapunzel is a very active mouse, and she yearns to go outside. What's more, her kingdom releases thousands of floating lanterns into the sky on her birthday every year, which Gothel tries to convince her are just stars, but she can tell they aren't, and she wants to see what they really are. In the meantime, she passes her time doing whatever activity she can, and she becomes really accomplished at all sorts of things. She also has a pet insect she calls "Pascal", who keeps her company, although Gothel doesn't like him at all.

The day before Rapunzel turns eighteen, she tries again to ask her 'mother' to let her see the lights, but in song, Gothel reminds her of all the reasons why she shouldn't (singing "Mother Knows Best", Fidget explained that Gothel's voice was much better than his.)

Meanwhile, there's a handsome mouse thief named Flynn Rider, who has stolen the lost princess's tiara together with two rats known as the Stabbington brothers. They're being chased by the royal guards, riding on their guard dogs, and while they run away into the forest, Flynn betrays the Stabbingtons so he can keep the money he'll get from the crown all to himself. Then, he gets chased by Maximus, the captain's guard dog, but he escapes him, with the crown, and comes across the tower. Gothel's out, so he climbs the side of the tower himself, but gets captured by Rapunzel, who thinks he's one of the selfish people Gothel had warned her about, and that he's come for her hair. Gothel returns, and Rapunzel hoists her up (Fidget explained that although Gothel could easily fly into the tower, Rapunzel wants to be as useful as possible, so she allows her to lift her up with her hair, now that it's long enough that she can do it.)

To cut to the chase, Boris enjoyed every part of the story, and Mrs. Judson was amazed by Fidget's skill in telling it, from the parts she heard, although at the climax Boris seemed to get a little disturbed.

"Knowing Rapunzel's gonna keep her promise to Gothel, Flynn finds a shard of glass from the broken mirror - it was beside him - and he grabs Rapunzel's hair as she leans down. Swish! Slice! From here down," Fidget indicated about where Flynn cut Rapunzel's hair, "it all falls down!"

"What!" Boris gasped, "But now she can't heal him!"

"I know," Fidget shrugged. "And he's losing blood fast. But he loves her, you know, something about that makes him not care so much." Fidget scratched his head as though trying to figure out why that was so. "Anyway, Rapunzel still calls him by his real name, Eugene, and she can't believe what he just did, 'Eugene, what?' she's muttering. Oh, but everyone in the room turns when Gothel screams, 'NO!' After all, all of Rapunzel's hair's cut, so it all goes brown."

"You mean, the powers are -"

"Gone. Bye-bye! Desperate, Gothel grabs the hair on the ground - not all of it's turned yet - but soon it is, and she's just plain terrified!"

"B-because she's going to die?"

"Uh-huh." Fidget was actually getting more and more excited, perhaps he had been comparing Gothel in his mind to Ratigan, and wished something like this had happened to the nefarious Professor. "The moment none of it's golden, well you knew it would happen, she ages again! And no going back this time! 'What have you done? What have you DONE!?' she screams! Her hands are all gnarly again, her wings are stiff, her back goes all hunched, her pretty black hair's gray again, she's all wrinkled, she's old! Old and getting older! She's got four hundred years to catch up on! She runs to the broken mirror, and in its pieces, she sees what's happening to her! She's disgusted and delirious, she covers her face with her hood and wraps her wings around herself, as if she can hide her age! Pascal's still mad coz she kicked him, he moves all that hair behind her so she trips! She falls straight out the window! Rapunzel wants to catch her but she can't, so she falls down, down, down!"

"But she's a bat! Why doesn't she fly?" Mrs. Judson, having finished making the scones a while ago and now sitting, listening to the story, also wanted to know, but she stayed quiet.

"Well, she's more than four hundred years old! Don'tcha know what happens to a body that's been dead hundreds of years?"

"No."

"It falls apart!" Fidget grinned, and Boris's jaw dropped. "Yeah, it turns to dust! All the while she's falling, Gothel's crumbling apart! Rapunzel watches the lady who kept her trapped all her life fall to the ground, but all she sees is her cloak falling. Bang! It lands on the ground and goes open, and whoosh! Dust flies up and scatters in the wind, and Mother Gothel's gone! Gone up in dust!" Fidget clapped his hands together.

"Oh no!" Boris began crying. Fidget was confused by this; he had not anticipated that the little boy would not share his enthusiasm. "J-Judson, what do I do?"

Mrs. Judson had already gotten up and was bent over, hugging the little boy and comforting him, thinking, "_I__'__d best make a note to advise Fidget about appropriate storytelling for young children!_" "There there, dear, it's alright!"

Boris sniffled, "What about Flynn? Is he gonna go up in dust?"

Fidget had recovered from his state of cluelessness, and came over, sitting down and curling up beside his ward for the night. "Nah, of course not! He's the hero; they never turn to dust - I don't think…" Boris looked at him anxiously. Fidget got a sharp look from the landlady, so he quickly reassured, "b-but he doesn't! No, Rapunzel goes back to him, and she thinks he's gonna die, maybe he does, but when she sings that song again, just out of habit, and she cries, it turns out she still had some magic left! As she cries over him, her tears heal him and bring him back!"

"Really? Wow!" Boris cheered up again.

"Then Maximus takes them, with Pascal, back to the king and queen, everyone's really happy, and Flynn changes his ways and marries Rapunzel! And uh, I think the thing to say is, they live happily ever after!" Fidget sighed, glad that was over with.

Or was it? "What about the rats at the pub? Did they get what they wanted?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, they did! The guy with the hook became a world famous pianist, the mime became, well, a mime! The guy with the giant nose got himself a pretty girl, and the little frog got to play Cupid practically everywhere!"

"Poor Mother Gothel," Boris lowered his head. "She didn't get what she wanted."

Fidget thought about this quietly. He knew Gothel was supposed to be evil and self-centered, but the bat had taken care of Rapunzel all her life, reasonably well when excusing the fact that she never let her out and subtly tried to lower her self-esteem so she wouldn't try to leave. And for some reason, Boris seemed to really like her, out of all the characters, so Fidget decided he had to think of something to soften the blow caused by the character's death.

"Well, she kinda did, actually." Boris looked up and tilted his head, cocker-spaniel style. "How?"

"Well, uh, she went to heaven, you see, coz despite all she did to Flynn and Pascal, and stealing the princess, and everything else, she did take care of Rapunzel all those years, so she was forgiven. And um, well in heaven, you're always young and beautiful! Or handsome, I guess," he explained, quickly muttering the last part.

Boris perked up after this, and deeply enjoyed the rest of his visit. Around 5:30 in the morning, his sister Lisa came by to pick him up, although she seemed more interested in being near Fidget again than she was in retrieving her baby brother.

Fidget did his best to maintain his composure as Lisa flirted girlishly with him, but all he really wanted to do was run for cover. It wasn't that he didn't like Lisa as a person, but he did not reciprocate the crush she harboured for him, and he had no idea therefore what to do when he was around her. Like most, he therefore decided to just grin and bear it, although the resolve almost dissolved when she kissed him on his cheek.

"Yuck!" Boris made a face at his sister.

Turning and glaring at him, she replied, "Boris, you go on home right now!" Boris rolled his eyes, turned to Fidget and smiled, "Goodbye, Uncle Fidget!" before flying off, and after stalling a bit longer and giving a lengthy goodbye to said bat with bedroom eyes, Lisa joined her brother.

Watching them fly away made Fidget forget his earlier awkwardness. After staring at them enviously until they disappeared from sight, Fidget glanced down at his crippled wing, rubbed it remorsefully with his other hand, then turned sulkily and closed the door.

Fidget's sombre mood kept up until after breakfast, when Dr. Dawson came and inquired of him what was the matter. All the mice had noticed the bat's usually chipper or at least content mood was off, but Mrs. Judson thought it best to give him a little space, and Basil couldn't be bothered, not when there were so many cases for him to take care of. That left the good old doctor, who, never liking to see folks down in the dumps, decided to see if there was any way he could help.

"Are you alright, Fidget?" Dawson asked after finding the young bat curled up on the bottom step of the staircase, back to the rail.

Fidget had his wings wrapped around his knees, and his face buried in his wings. Lifting his head only enough so one could see his eyes, he turned to the doctor and cocked an eyebrow, pretending he hadn't understood.

Convinced beyond a doubt something was wrong, Dawson sat on the steps beside Fidget, and asked again, "Tell me, what is the matter?"

Almost incomprehensibly, Fidget mumbled, "Why would anything be the matter?"

"Well, you haven't been yourself, this morning."

"Maybe I'm tired?" Fidget still kept his face in his wings.

Dawson suspected it was a lot more than that, but it seemed Fidget was not in the mood for sharing his problems, so, shrugging, the doctor said, "Very well then," and got up to leave. Peeking out at him once more, Fidget suddenly had a change of mind, and said more audibly, "I can't fly."

"Eh, what's this?" Dawson turned around again.

"I can't fly, and it's upsetting." Fidget finally met the doctor's gaze.

"Oh, I see," Dawson replied. It had slipped his mind that the bat had a crippled wing.

"It's been like this since I was six," Fidget said, scowling into his knees again. "Same time I got this!" He patted the peg which had replaced his right leg from the knee down.

"Oh dear," Dawson replied sympathetically as he sat down beside the disgruntled bat again, "suppose you tell me about it?"

Fidget eyed Dawson, hesitating. He rarely ever spoke about that night, and never by choice. Besides, he wasn't very well acquainted with Dawson, and after being at odds with Basil and later Dawson for the longest time he still felt uncomfortable conversing with either of them. Seeing as Fidget was so disturbed, Dawson politely said, "If it is such a sensitive topic for you, Fidget, I won't trouble you about it anymore."

"No, no!" Fidget held his hands up. A gut feeling pushed him over this border, time to be out with it. "I, uh, got this from a cab!"

Dawson raised an eyebrow. "A cab?""Um, no, not that way. Well there was a cab, yes, but it didn't give me this; you know they don't do that, right? Heheheh. No, I got caught by a cab," Fidget got down on the floor to recreate the scene. "I was flying, I was flying through the air and whap! Right into the horse!" Fidget flapped into the banister, which played the horse in this re-enactment. "Ow! Anyway, so I fell! I was out and I fell! Then my wing broke," he took the crippled wing and twisted it about to show Dawson how it must have looked. The old mouse winced and gritted his teeth. "Yeah, yeah it was horrible! Then the wheel ran over my leg!" He lay down and ran his hand over the leg. "Gone! Cut it right off! Ow! Aiyee!"

"I see," Dawson wavered his hands, urging Fidget to bring this "energetic" performance to an end. "Then it wasn't the cat's fault?"

Fidget had turned away, but now he looked back, laughing. "Hahaha, no! She wasn't even there yet!"

"And you say you were six years old, and you haven't flown since then?"

"Nah, I've flown," Fidget explained, trying to fly around the hall only to come to a clumsy crash seconds later. "I just can't do it right!" His face fell and he groaned in a more subdued way, "The doc said it'd never work right again."

Dawson was quiet, for a moment, as he thought over this information. "Do you know, Fidget, I just might know how to fix that wing of yours!" Fidget's ears perked up and his jaw dropped in disbelief. "If you will come down to my practice sometime, I'll have a look at it - the problem may be mendable even after all these years."

Fidget stared at him for a count of five, before he muttered, "Really?" Before Dawson knew it, a pair of leathery wings had clasped him in a hug as tight as a throttling, with Fidget showering him with thanks and excited praise, unfamiliarity quickly forgotten.

Chuckling nervously, Dawson gently shoved Fidget off, saying, "Oh, you're welcome Fidget, but don't get your hopes up too high. I only said it might be possible; I won't know until I've looked at it."

Fidget was too happy to listen, however.

/

After Olivia arrived, and had gotten a moment in during her visit to celebrate their successful mission with Fidget, he told her his own good news. "Oh, that sounds wonderful, Fidget!" She gasped. "Maybe you can take me flying sometime!"

"Heh, not a bad idea," Fidget replied.

Olivia then got down to business. "I wonder what we can do for Mr. Basil this time?"

They might have thought speaking of him had conjured him up, because Basil came bounding down the stairs at that moment. "Dawson! Dawson ol' chap! The game's afoot! We must be off, and I think we'd best get Toby for this case!" And just like that, he was out of the corridor and into the living room, the door slammed behind him. Olivia and Fidget watched as he came zooming back into the corridor, his Inverness and deerstalker adorning him, just as Dawson was descending the stairs.

"Come, come, Dawson! No time like the present! Let's be on our way!" Basil came back to the foot of the stairs and clapped his hands.

"Right behind you, Basil. I'll just take a moment to put on my coat -"

"No time, I'm afraid. We must make haste!"

"Now dash it all, Basil! No case is large enough that I cannot take one moment to get my coat!" Dawson firmly pulled his arm out of Basil's grasp and went into the living room.

Arms folded impatiently, Basil turned to the two onlookers and confided, "Except that it won't be a moment, rather it'll be somewhere in the average of 46.05 seconds. What's more, he'll insist on taking his hat and his umbrella."

Basil stood where he was, tapping his foot and tracking the time on his watch, until Dawson returned. "Right on time as usual, my good fellow!"

"I beg you par-" Dawson began, confused.

"Ah-ah-ah! No time for chit-chat! We must be off!" He then excitedly shoved poor Dr. Dawson in the direction of the door which would take them to the passage leading up into the human dwelling up above.

Staring after them, Fidget finally asked, "Now what were you saying?"

"I said, what do you think we can do for Mr. Basil this time?"

"Oh. He's got those letters on the table again."

"I noticed that. Let's go take a look!"

So saying, they went into the living room, over to the chemistry table, and stood there, reading over the letters one at a time. Olivia had so far selected five prime candidates out of eleven considered, when suddenly they heard a door open and Basil chattering frantically, accompanied by Dawson's concerned voice. The detective then came dashing into the living room, with the doctor in tow, leaving the little mouse and the bat barely enough time to replace the letters on the stack and step away from the table before they were noticed.

"Mr. Basil, what's the matter?" Olivia asked, hoping the detective, if he noticed, would not question the unmistakable shaking in her voice.

"No time to talk, Miss Flurrychums! A most terrible misfortune has befallen us! We have to -" _SLAM!_ went the door, taking the rest of what Basil was saying with it.

"Dr. Dawson, what's wrong with Basil?" Olivia turned to Dawson.

"Well, Olivia, I'm afraid we overheard the humans upstairs discussing something very troubling. I don't want to worry you, but… Toby has been stolen."

"Stolen? Oh no, not Toby!" Olivia clasped her face with her hands.

"Yes, my dear," Dawson answered gravely. Then, to brighten her spirits, he quickly added, "But not to worry, Basil and I will hunt down the scoundrel who took him and get him back. He'll be alright!"

After Dawson left, Olivia turned back to Fidget. "Who would do a mean thing like that?" She asked.

"Heh. Those humans are the worst, right?", was all he could say.

Olivia looked down at her shoes, frowning. A contemplative tension filled the room's atmosphere for a number of moments, until she finally said, "We can't just stand around and do nothing, Fidget!"

"Huh?" Fidget might have forgotten Olivia could talk, in that time, judged by his reaction.

"Toby is our friend, Fidget," she explained as she walked over to him. "When a friend is in trouble, you've got to help him any way you can!" She grasped his shoulders as she continued, "We've got to look for him too, Fidget! This can be our case for the week!"

"_I might__'__ve guessed_," he thought as he watched her run and retrieve her coat and things, then slip them on. He had already begun to realize arguing the point was fruitless with Olivia, so he just shrugged and went to get his scarf and hat. Glancing at the clock as he did this, however, he couldn't help but complain, "Aw, but Livy! Bed's in three minutes!"

Olivia stopped. It was one thing when she voluntarily made herself miss sleep in order to follow a case, but making someone else? "Oh, maybe you're right, Fidget. You go to sleep, I'll go look for Toby."

"Livy…" Fidget muttered in a foreboding undertone.

"It's okay, Fidget. It's daytime, so I should be alright."

"Ah-ah! No dice! You're not going to guilt me into coming along - I already am!" He resumed collecting his scarf and whisking it 'round his neck.

"But I wasn't trying to -"

"Say no more!" Fidget plunked his hat atop his head, then turned to her and said, "Just say where, and that's…. uh, where!"

Olivia wondered if that really was Fidget she was talking to, and not Basil in perhaps his most accurate impersonating disguise ever. "Um, okay then. Well we'd better go upstairs and look around, first."

Gazing over at the stairs to the rooms up above, Fidget inquired, "What's that got to do with it?"

"You know I didn't mean that," Olivia replied, "I meant where Toby lives!"

Fidget gaped back at her. "Oh - oh! Up there, huh?"

"Mm-hmmm. Come on!" Olivia signalled for him to follow her, then went to the door leading to the passage up to the human flats above.

Once they were up there, Olivia turned to Fidget, who was closing the door to the passage. "Now remember, Fidget, we have to keep _quiet_!" She whispered.

"State the obvious!" He rolled his eyes.

"Shh!" Olivia had related the purpose of this step in their search for the missing canine on the way up. She intended to look for any signs pointing to whomever might have taken Toby, and his home seemed the most logical place to start.

At length, Fidget, who'd been puzzling over this for the longest time now, finally whispered to her, "Livy, uh, what exactly do we look for?"

"That's the problem, Fidget. We don't know when he was kidnapped, or where. He might have been outside, or he might have been in here."

"And?"

"If he was in here, there'll probably be something that proves it, like tracks or something unusual left behind."

"And if he wasn't?"

"Then we'll have to think this over again. Now come on!" They made over to the hall, and almost immediately noticed that where Toby's bed had been was clear space now.

"Fidget, look!" Olivia hissed, remembering at the last second not to yell. She pointed to the absence of the basket.

"Why's it not there anymore?" Fidget frowned.

"Maybe this is a sign!" Olivia suggested. "Maybe Toby _was_ in his basket when he was taken, and the kidnapper took it with him!"

"Maybe? What else could it mean?"

"I don't know. Maybe whoever took him went back and grabbed his basket?"

"Why'd they do that?"

"I don't know that they did! But it wouldn't hurt to look." So they went over to where Toby's basket used to be, and examined the space. "See anything?" Fidget asked, looking side to side as Olivia paced around, inspecting the floor.

"I do! Fidget, look at these marks on the carpet!"

"Hahaha, looks like Toby's been clawing at it!"

"Fidget, those aren't claw marks! They're too wide, and look how long they are! I think they go all the way to the front door! Toby wouldn't have clawed the carpet all the way from here to there. They're wheels!"

"Wheels?"

"And look at this! How wide do you think Toby's basket is? Doesn't it look like these wheel marks are far apart enough that whatever they belong to could carry the basket? I'll bet that's how the kidnapper got it out!"

"And if the dog was in the bed, maybe they drugged him so he wouldn't bark! Or put up a fight," Fidget quickly added.

Olivia shuddered. Then to make things worse, they heard the door opening.

"Yikes! In here! Now!" Fidget grabbed Olivia and they scurried back into the parlour. Taking cover under a chair, they peeked out and watched the human detective and his assistant enter the hallway, and tried to listen to what they were saying.

"They're talking about Toby, alright!" Fidget nodded.

Seeing the enormous men disappear up the stairs, Olivia stepped out from under the chair and declared, "We need to follow them. Maybe they've found out something important."

"Y-you want to go up - up after them!" Fidget stuttered, shrinking back into the darkness under the chair.

"Yes. Don't be so afraid, Fidget! This isn't worse than anything Professor Ratigan made you do!""Yeah, says you!" Fidget grumbled, crawling out and joining the little girl. It was just as they were about to go upstairs, however, that the human landlady entered the hall, calling out for Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Ducking quickly, they cowered into a corner, huddled together as tight as they could, hoping they would not be noticed.

Mr. Holmes came down the stairs upon his landlady's call. Olivia and Fidget listened carefully to what they were saying. Mrs. Hudson had a typed message for Holmes - she'd found it beside the typewriter while she was cleaning. Holmes skimmed over the contents of the message, and upon determining that it was from Toby's captor/s, and that it had been composed using that very typewriter, was very displeased that she'd not notified him sooner, and saved him time. Hudson sharply replied that she'd only noticed it after he and Dr. Watson had gone out, and that there was no reason to take that tone with her.

"_She__'__s so much like Mrs. Judson,_" Olivia mused. When the coast was clear, the two came out of hiding and continued on their way up after Holmes. "So the kidnapper wrote a message when they took Toby!" Olivia thought out loud.

"Or they came back after they took him and wrote it." Fidget contributed.

"That'd be very risky, but maybe they did."

It was at that moment that they heard men's voices and huge feet trampling down the steps again - four of them, so there were two men approaching. Fidget, now annoyed, said, "Oh come on! I've had enough of this!" Grabbing Olivia, who couldn't stop herself squealing in surprise, he sped over to the edge of the staircase and jumped!

"Holmes! Did you hear something?" Dr. Watson could be heard to utter. "It was very faint, but it sounded like a little girl shrieking!"

"Nonsense, Watson," the detective replied impatiently, "It is the damn creaking in these steps."

"But Holmes -"

"Tell me, Watson, if there were a child voicing distress, would I not be able to discern it from the noise of overexerted stairs?"

While the detective and the doctor continued to argue the point, the one who had shrieked - in a voice faint and high enough for human ears to easily mistake it for squeaky steps - turned and glared at the one who'd stimulated her to do so.

"Fidget, how could you do that? We might have been killed!"

"Call it bragging, but I'm pretty good at jumping, even if I can't fly!" Fidget smirked. "You've seen me hop from one roof to another, right?"

"No." Olivia replied.*

Fidget thought. "Oh, I guess you didn't. Huh. Well I landed alright, didn't I? You're not hurt?"

"I was scared to death!"

"Who isn't?" Fidget broke off laughing, pleased with his joke and thinking he'd won the argument. Olivia might not have let him, but she remembered the case, and decided its priority was much higher.

"If only we knew what was in that letter," Olivia muttered.

"Better go up and look for it."

"Fidget, if Mr. Holmes is anything like Mr. Basil, he isn't going to leave an important clue like that behind. Hey, look!" She pointed at the humans as they were heading out the door. "I'll bet that paper he's holding is it! Come on!" She grabbed Fidget's hand and sped off, Fidget quickly catching up.

"So uh, this means we're gonna follow them?"

"Yep! If we can catch up to them, we might be able to get a glimpse of what the message says!"

"Livy," Fidget said as they got down on their bellies and crawled under the door, "I'd love to know how you think we can catch up to them!"

"Where there's a will, there's a way, Fidget!" was all she could say.

There was a way, of course, a long, long way between the two search parties. And that long way was growing with each step. When the mouse and the bat had gotten outside, their human quarries were already at the corner of the street. They'd crossed before the smaller creatures had reached that same corner, and it seemed quite clear they'd soon be a block away. The fact that Olivia pressed on, seemingly ignoring all common sense in her passionate pursuit of that letter, boggled Fidget's mind. Still, they were in this together, and she was undoubtedly in command. Wherever she went, he'd follow.

"Really keeping up with them, aren't we?" Fidget turned to his companion, smirking.

"They've got to stop at some point, Fidget!" Olivia huffed, trying to either pick up pace or at least stay at the one she was already at. Unfortunately, though she was fit for a girl her age, her stamina did not match that of an adult's, nor could her velocity match that of a human's, and she found herself beginning to tire. Hope and desperation were the only things which kept her running. Fidget saw that the girl was getting weary. "_If only I could fly_," he thought to himself, "_we__'__d__'__ve been there by now_."

Luckily, Heaven helped those who first helped themselves. As they reached the corner of the next block, a hansom was passing down the road. Holmes and Watson had turned right, and the hansom was heading that same direction. "What luck!" Olivia panted. "Quick, Fidget!" Fidget did not need to be told twice; one well-timed leap and they were on the footstep of the cab. Because the horses travelled much faster than the humans, they were caught up to the detective and the doctor in no time. Waiting to get a little ahead of them, they quickly jumped off their transport and scurried back onto the sidewalk.

Watching as the humans fast approached, the bat turned to the mouse and inquired, "So what do we do now?"

Olivia did not answer. She didn't have to. She watched as Mr. Holmes glanced at the letter again, before stuffing it in the left pocket of his Inverness. Six steps later and his trouser cuff was within grasping distance; she grabbed ahold and Fidget quickly followed suit. "To that pocket!" She hissed as quietly as she could, and the two delicately but swiftly ascended the leg of the human, hitched onto the edge of his coat, and continued on till they reached their destination. Hopping inside and feeling ever so thankful that even the observant Holmes did not detect their presence, they proceeded to work together, adjusting the large sheet of paper at turns and tips to discern its contents.

"We… have taken… your dog… detective,… and if you… ever wan… _want_… him back, you'd… better -"

"Better what?"

"Shh! I'm getting to that, Fidget! Hold that corner up!" Olivia hissed, then returned to her reading. "You'd better… come down to… Carey Street, unarmed. Bring the doc… with you… too. Make Haste."

"Queer street?" Fidget cocked an eyebrow.

"Carey Street," Olivia replied.

"Yeah, that's Queer Street, where the bankurtis - uh, bankaris… um, the courts for folks who've lost their money are!"

"Why would anyone want to take Toby there?"

"Maybe to charge him for making them go broke?" Fidget laughed.

"This isn't a time for jokes, Fidget, we've got to think!" Olivia drummed her fist into her other hand. She assumed Basil's primary thinking pose. "So far we know that the people who took him used a wagon to get him out, and they might have knocked him out so they wouldn't get caught. They left this note so Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson would go to Carey St. to get him back, and they don't want them to have any weapons with them." She wondered whether Holmes would obey that order or not.

"Say, Livy, did you see this?" Fidget showed her a peculiar smudge of ink from the typewriter, on the right side of the paper.

Olivia squinted in the darkness. "Isn't that a -"

"It's a handprint!" Fidget declared.

"But it's small enough to be a rodent's hand!" Olivia said. "That would mean… Toby wasn't kidnapped by humans at all!"

"That Holmes guy must be having an off day, if he didn't notice this!"

"Even Mr. Basil doesn't notice everything right off the bat, Fidget," Olivia said, but when Fidget tilted his head to the side and stared at her with his eyes wide open, she quickly corrected herself, "um, I mean, right _away_!"

Fidget nodded in acceptance, then looked back at the handprint. "But just look at the size of this print, Livy! You can't call that small! It's bigger than Ratigan's hand!"

Olivia thought about this, then proposed, "do you think that means it was rats? Or in any case, one was in on it?"

"I'd put my money on it!" Fidget affirmed. "Hey, wait! Why've we stopped?"

The two of them had noticed that their human transport had halted in his footsteps. Drawing in their breaths, they cowered into the deepest recesses of the pocket they could manage, looking on in terror as the pocket was opened and a giant, slender man's hand reached in…

**AN: ****…****To be continued! I apologize once again for this far-too-long waiting period. I hope to get Chapter 5 and the conclusion to this particular case up much faster.**

**Now, as always, here are the details behind those places I****'****ve marked with an asterisk:**

**1. Yep, you guessed it! Fidget****'****s story for Boris is ****"****Tangled****"****, mouse-size! Naturally Rapunzel and Flynn and most of the folks had to be mice, but watching Mother Gothel, and noting that aura of mystery and the way she just seems to fit in with the night, I couldn****'****t see this version of her as anything but a bat. The Stabbington brothers and all the other really big, brawny guys in the film are rats in this version, ****"****Shorty****"****, I felt just had to be a frog; Pascal couldn****'****t be a chameleon in this version, naturally, so he****'****s an insect, and Maximus and the other guard horses are dogs. I personally think Fidget does a pretty good job of telling the story, not to suggest that anything compares to Flynn Rider****'****s narration. ;)**

**2. Obviously that little exchange of words is about the scene in GMD when Fidget kidnaps Olivia at the human toy store. Also obvious to everyone except Fidget, is that Olivia would not likely have been able to guess he was hopping from roof to roof on his way back to Ratigan****'****s lair, if she was inside a sack and panicking over her ordeal.**


End file.
